


Pepper Potts Proudly Presents: Little Shop of Horrors

by WallyWillyWalter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Little Shop of Horrors - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Musical theater AU, mild violence, small side of drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallyWillyWalter/pseuds/WallyWillyWalter
Summary: ‘This is it.’, Steve scooted closer to the wall, dragging Bucky's limp body with him, ‘This is how I’m gonna die.’ Taking a deep breath he watched the giant plant crumple towards them.  ‘I always assumed it would be something stupid that would kill me,’ Steve thought, ‘but I didn’t think it would be a giant paper mache plant. I especially didn’t think it would be with someone knocked out in my arms.” Steve curled his body over Bucky’s and prepared for impact.





	1. -Prologue-

Steve was finishing up his last commission, a sign for a local nursery, adding his signature discreetly to the bottom of the graphic. 

As far as commissions, it was a simple piece. A bunch of typography with a figured silhouette in the background. Simplistic. He liked it. It was for some flower shop called Ashman’s Flowers. 

‘Could be worse,’ he thought. ‘At least people are actually going to see this.’ Glancing over the piece one last time, he heard his phone chime with an email notification. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled his phone out.

He had a new email from ppotts@ppph.com. Steve didn’t recognize the sender, but it could be a new commision, so he quickly read the email.

 

Dear Mr. Rogers,

We much appreciate your submission for the set design of Little Shop of Horrors. After some careful thought, we are pleased to offer you the contract! As you may already know, Little Shop is a play about alien plants who want to dominate the world. Due to the nature of the play, we will have only a small number of sets, but they will be very detailed. If there are no disagreements from yourself, I would love to meet tomorrow around noon so we can get started working. The play premieres in three months. I finished casting the production last week, and our Seymour and Audrey have already begun rehearsals. The rest of the cast is scheduled to join us tomorrow, which is why I would love for you to be present. The cast is expected to arrive around 2 pm, but if you could come at noon to meet me, Seymour and Audrey (1 and 2!), and our other tech crew, that would simply be swell. A simple reply to this letter with a yes I will be there is all that is required. The address for Pepper Potts Playhouse is included at the bottom. I look forward to meeting you, Steve! I’ve heard great things about your skills from Mr. Wilson.  
Best Regards,  
Pepper Potts.

“Huh? This can’t be right.” Steve wiped his glasses thinking maybe the smudges made him misread. He reread the email, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. It still contained the same words.

“Hey, Sam.” 

Leaning back in his chair, Steve looked at the man in the kitchen. Sam was leaning over the stove, wafting his hands in steam. You could practically see his nostrils flaring at Sam mumbled to himself. “It is not right, it's not right yet.” 

“Sam. Pay attention to me. Sam. Sam. Hey Sam.” 

Sam continued to ignore him. Grinding some sea salt into the mixture.

“Sam. Stop ignoring me. Sam. Sam. Sssaaamm.”

Two dark eyes glanced in Steve's direction before quickly going back to looking at the spice rack over the stove.

“Sam Wilson. You better pay attention to me. I need to know what you have gotten me into now. Sam. Sam!”

“Man, if you don’t stop whining I am never going to get this soup right. And if I don’t get this soup right," Sam whined, sorting through spices, "I am not going to get promoted. And if I don’t get this promotion, I am going to be stuck on the cold apps station for all of eternity. Do you want that Steve? Is that something you want for me?” 

“Stop being so dramatic. Your soup smells amazing.” Rising from his seat, Steve made the short walk to the kitchen, smiling with the progress Sam had made. Steve had been renting the same townhouse for the past five years, having only lived alone for a year after his mother's death. Losing his mom had been hard on Steve, so when his friend Sam had told him he was being discharged from the Army due to some sort of flying accident, Steve had offered him a place to stay. 

Steve would never say it out loud, but he owed as much to Sam as Sam thought he owed to Steve. His health issues kept his life pretty chill, and when Steve's mom had died Steve almost lost himself in the process. When Sam moved in, they quickly fell into a routine. Sam even developed a pill chart that they hung on the fridge, which kept them both accountable for taking all of their meds. Sam helped Steve with his many health issues and the loss of his mother, in turn, Steve helped Sam through his nightmares and panic attacks. It wasn't a perfect situation, but it worked for them. 

Sam had spent his first year, post-discharge, mostly watching Food Network and Netflix while Steve went to classes. Worried about his friend's sudden obsession with Alton Brown, Steve had suggested Sam start attending the VA since Steve was in class all the time. At first, Sam laughed at the idea, but Steve came home one day towards the end of his freshman year to a post-it note stuck to the TV. All it said was, ‘Alton ruined lobster for me. Trying the VA.-Sam.’ 

At the VA, Sam had met Riley, and their duo quickly became a trio. 

Towards the middle of Steve’s junior year in college, Steve had walked into the house, abruptly dropping all his supplies when he heard sobbing from the kitchen. What he found was Sam, glaring at a video on Youtube, sitting in what appeared to be some sort of flour induced explosion, sobbing into his apron. Shortly after, Sam had enrolled in culinary school. The flour explosions haven’t stopped, but they happen considerably less now. 

Currently, Sam’s new thing was soup.

Steve grabbed the marker off the post-it board. Checking off half of his side of the daily pill checklist, taking notice that Sam had taken all his meds but that Riley’s slot was missing a check for breakfast.

“Hey, when Riley gets home, make sure he takes his Lexapro.” Steve reached for a spoon, aiming to test the soup before a sharp smack knocked it out of his hands.

“It’s not ready, Steven!” Sam glanced at the spice rack, quickly grabbing a bottle of mint and throwing some leaves in the pot. “And put a check by Riley’s Lexapro for me. He took it, he was just running late for work and forgot to check it.”

“Jesus, Sam! You didn’t have to smack me!” Steve, glaring, placed the check by Riley’s name. “If I can’t taste your soup, can you at least explain to me why a Ms. Pepper Potts is emailing me saying that she can’t wait to get started on set designs. And why she mentioned that Mr. Wilson was right to suggest me for this project?” Steve leaned over to take another whiff of the soup, he should have been embarrassed at the moan that escaped his lips. Should have been. He wasn’t embarrassed at all. He wanted some of that soup. Handing his phone over to Sam with the email pulled up, Steve started looking for another spoon. Silently opening the silverware drawer to not attract attention, keeping his eyes on Sam at all time.

Sam glanced over the email, looking like he already knew what it was going to say. Steve had just managed to grab another spoon when Sam’s glare made him freeze mid-attempt at a taste.

“Spoon. Down. Now! Also, congratulations on your recent commission for Pepper Potts Playhouse.” The smile on Sams' face, prominently displaying the gap in his teeth, looked a little too pleased for Steve’s liking. 

“Sam..”, Steve let his face fall into a hurt look, knowing full well Sam would tell him everything in about thirty seconds. “I thought we talked about how you were not going to submit my name for jobs anymore.” Steve shuddered at the memory of Sam’s last attempt to help. To be fair, the hunky priest calendar had made him a lot of money. But still, the images would forever haunt him.

“Well…”, Sam was rolling Steve's phone in his hands, his nerves showing. “I know you like musicals. And I know you’re always so busy with your graphics commissions and that you would rather be creating,” Sam lifted the spoon from the soup, making air quotes with both spoon and hand, “real, physical, dirty organic art.”

Sam leaned over to smell his soup, frowning at the imagined shortcomings of it. “I thought it might be good for you,” Sam grabbed a bowl from the shelf, “to be involved in something where you can experience the reaction first hand. Something where you can get dirty again. Maybe meet some people who are not Riley or me. Some people who are not clients. Ya know, be a part of a team, so to speak. Meet people who are not Riley or me.”

Steve watched Sam fill the bowl, glaring at the potatoes floating in it, pointedly ignoring Sams gaze. “So I submitted some of your work for this set design thing I saw posted on a flyer down at the VA. But I know Pepper. Personally.”

Bread was being sliced now. Butter was being applied. 

“Congratulations, Steve," Sam said. "Looks like she liked what she saw. Now you can add Little Shop of Horrors set design to your resume. Get out from behind the computer screen for a little while. Peppers great. You’re going to love her. I know how you have this thing for powerhouse women.” The bowl was placed in front of Steve. “Now. Say thank you and tell me what is missing from this soup.” 

Sam smiled. Steve glared. The soup souped.

Taking a deep breath, Steve spooned some of the soup in his mouth, his eyes never leaving Sams. The soup was amazing. The soup was beyond amazing. Steve slowly spooned more into his mouth, eyes still matching Sams, purposely showing no emotion. Two can play this game and if Sam if setting him up for mystery jobs, then, Sam deserved this. Slowly, Steve picked up the bowl, tilting it to his lips, loudly slurping down the rest of the soup.

Sam stared. Steve wiped his mouth. "The only thing this soup needs," Steve said, turning to leave the kitchen, walking away from Sam, "is to stop surprising all the other soups with things they may or may not want to do.” 

Sam scoffed. Steve walked away. The soup souped deliciously.


	2. Act 1.1-Grow For Me

 

Sam was a good friend. Steve was confident that Sam just wanted him to experience the exciting parts of life now that things had calmed down for both of them. Thinking of where they both were mentally a few years ago, things did seem relatively normal now. Leave it to Sam to make sure that all changed.

Steve laughed, remembering that one time Sam had signed them both up for a synchronized swimming class. Steve had actually been pretty good at it, and all the older women had adored his small frame in the swim uniform. Sam had looked ridiculous in the swim cap with daisies on it though. “I can’t believe you made me do this, Steve!" Sam had whines. "Never again!” Steve still had his swim cap somewhere. He should find it.

“Hey, Sam? I’m about to go to this,” Steve gestured at the print out for Potts Playhouse, “thing.” The grin on Sams face almost made Steve want to stop acting annoyed for being surprised at being signed up for something again. Almost.

“Great," Sam yelled from the kitchen. "Get out of here. Stay gone as long as you want. Longer even. Make friends.” Sam waves his knife at Steve in a 'shoo' motion. Smells like lasagna. Oh. Lasagna was Riley’s favorite.

“Just be sure to close your door this time," Steve said, nodding at the mess of food. "I’m still messed up from walking in on your bare ass last time!” An undignified scoff came from the kitchen. Shoving his earbuds in, Steve turned and reached for the door handle. TIme to go see what kind of trouble he's in now.

* * *

 

 

The soft melodies of Little Shop of Horrors filled Steve’s ears. He didn’t know much about the play other than the fact that some plant from space ate a lot of people, but the playhouse wasn’t too far from Steve's house. Steve managed to walk the ten blocks in record time, making it there early enough to grab a coffee from the cafe across the street.

Should he grab something for his meeting? Steve glanced at the pastry rack, considering. Is he trying to impress these people? They want to impress him, right? Right? Right. Wait. Steve applied for this job. Sam applied for this job as Steve. So, Steve was trying to impress them then. "Thanks, Sam." Steve let out a breath fogging up the display case. "Okay. Those muffins look good. Can I get a dozen of those blueberries?” Nailed it.

The playhouse is conveniently across the street, discreet. Discreet in a way that the bright red letters Pepper Potts Playhouse are the only thing that distinguishes it as anything other than an empty building. Steve walked up the steps, pulls open the door, walks in, and freezes. Angels. Steve hears angels. Okay, it probably wasn’t an angel, but someone is singing and they sound like an angel. An angel with a smooth, deep voice laced with what can only be described as bravado and passion. Basically, an angel. Steve turned his good ear to the towards the sound.

  
_"I've given you Southern exposure_   
_To get you to thrive_   
_I've pinched you back hard,_   
_Like I'm supposed taa,_   
_You're barely alive"_

 

Steve gripped the edge of the wall peeking around the corner and managed to steal a glance at where the voice was coming from. The voice was coming from a man, not an angel. Maybe not an angel? Probably still an angel. The man standing on the playhouse stage was breathtaking. Like an angel. He had his hair tied back in a small ponytail, hitting just below his neck. Unnatural. Like an angel. Maybe it's just how the light is shining on his face?

Because Steve was staring at the angel on the stage, enraptured by the heavenly sound, Steve didn’t hear the click-clack of heels approach him. And because Steve didn’t hear the click-clack of heels approach him, Steve didn't notice the shadow of arms reaching for his neck. Steve whirled around letting out a decidedly unangelic yelp of his own, quickly bringing his hands into defense at the soft touch on his shoulder, feeling his lungs tighten at once.

“Goodness! Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, Mr. Rogers. Let's just move over into the light why don’t we? Can’t have my new set designer beating up the director now, can I?”

Wait. What? Seeing his hands raised in the air, Steve slowly lowered them to his sides. Steve, embarrassed, could feel his face burning, at both being caught ogling the stage angel and almost attacking his new boss who could only be the Pepper Potts. Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out his inhaler. Starting to shake it, he made a mental note to really let Sam have it later. Much later. Because there was lasagna cooking.

Taking a hit of the medicine, Steve extended his free hand towards Ms. Potts, trying to regain his composure. “Please don’t call me Mr. Rogers,” Steve wheezed, blowing out his inhaler puff. “Call me Steve. Sorry for, er, rounding up on you. You caught me off guard. I was,” Steve gestured towards the stage, not really knowing what to say, “er, I was um, listening.”

Pepper Potts was tall, but most people were tall compared to Steve. She took Steves hand in hers, trying too hard to look like she wasn’t noticing the rapid shaking of his inhaler, giving him a much too firm handshake in compensation. Something about her gave Steve the feeling she was sizing him up. Or maybe down in his case. 

“I noticed.” Peppers voice was full of merriment, the previous attack already forgotten. She didn’t seem repulsed by the situation at all. She had a gentle look on her face. She almost looked like she was charmed. Weird. “He’s great, isn’t he? That's James." Pepper said, nodding towards the stage. "He’s playing Seymour in our production! I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Pepper Potts, of Pepper Potts Playhouse. Would you like to meet our stars?” There was a hint of mischief in her voice. This woman was dangerous. Steve already liked her. “We can do that in a bit. The rest of the crew isn’t scheduled to arrive for another hour. Follow me, Steve. Let’s head to the office to start talking set design.” Pepper paused, pointing to Steve’s satchel where the pastry bag was just poking out.  “Are those muffins?”

Pepper was halfway down the theater lobby incline before Steve realized he wasn’t moving after her. Shoving his inhaler back in his pocket, Steve sprinted in the direction after Pepper. He briefly noticed the people on the stage starring in their path. The angel was standing middle stage, staring directly at Steve. A short woman was standing opposite him, nudging him in the side. 

Steve caught up with Pepper right as she opened a door off stage left. Inside was a spacious office with two sofas, a desk, and an impressive bookshelf. There were stacks of papers on the central desk, scattered around highlighters and post-it notes. Most impressively, natural light poured in from the massive window behind the desk, illuminating the dust in the air. Everything about this room made Steve’s fingers twitch for his sketchpad.

Pepper pulled out the chair behind the desk, seating herself. She reached for a binder, folding her hands atop it, straight to business. “Steve. Please. Sit down. Unless you plan on sharing those muffins, then please do that instead.”

“Oh right! The muffins. I hope blueberry is okay.” Steve freed the muffins, carefully sitting them on the edge of Peppers desk among the highlighters and mess.

“Did somebody say blueberry muffins?” A new voice, the short woman from the stage earlier, poked her head inside the office.

“Angie,” Pepper scolded, “is that anyway to say hello to our new set designer? Sorry, Steve. She gets ahead of herself sometimes. This is Angie Martinelli. She' s starring as Audrey. She really is a rather lovely girl, I promise.”

Steve's already irregularly beating heart skipped another beat. Okay. What would Sam do? Sam would laugh and say something funny. Grabbing a muffin, Steve held it out to Angie. “Want a muffin? It’s blueberry.” Nailed it.

Angie, grabbed the muffin, pulling Steve into a hug. “Oh! I like him! Let's keep this one, huh Pep?” Behind her, there were deep chuckles as the angel, er, James, entered the room.

“Angie! Put him down! Don’t you dare break our new set designer!" Pepper chided. "James! Make her put him down!” Pepper was on her feet, attempting to sound stern but coming off more amused than anything.

Strong arms gently pried Steve away from Angie's death grip. If only Steve had known offering a girl a muffin would get this kind of reaction, he would have been offering everyone muffins a long time ago.

Steve was lifted from Angie's arms into much stronger ones, then gently, lowered until his feet were touching the floor. Sighing, Steve thought to himself, “You really are an angel.”

Angie ate her muffin. Pepper grinned. Steve froze. James blinked.

“I don’t know about angel, but hows about you call me Bucky?” James extended his hand to Steve, his eyes flickering quickly over Steve’s body. Oh. Okay. Cool. Steve grabbed Bucky's hand, counting his shakes. Be cool Steve. You can do this.’

“Bucky it is then” Steve replied in what he hoped was something close to confidence. Bucky was gorgeous. More attractive than Steve had initially thought. Buckys eyes were a warm shade of blue. His hair still tied back at his neck, had a slight wave to it. Steve noticed Bucky's left arm had some scarring down the side of it. Interesting. Steve was familiar with that type of scar. Steve had one similar down his back from the rod placed there when he was a kid.

“Well, this is fun.” Pepper sat back in her chair. “Isn’t this fun everyone?” Angie, still eating her muffin, made an agreeable sound. Bucky, looking at his hand, just nodded. “Let's talk set design! Steve, I prepared a binder full of things. I have period appropriate items, as well as pictures we can model our scenes after. I took a few creative liberties with the Audrey 2 section. I do hope you will be pleased. As a cast, we are prepared to help wherever needed.” Pepper handed a rather impressively thick binder to Steve, who opened it quickly to see what he was working with.

“Oh wow. Looks like you have everything in here." Steve flipped through the pages. "Pepper? Do I really need a copy of the biographies of the cast?” Steve flipped through the tabs, definitely not looking for Bucky's page. Wait. “Pepper, is there a biography page on me in here?”

“Naturally!" Pepper answered, no-nonsense. "We are a team! As a team, I want to give our crew every advantage. We only have three months, Steve. We can’t afford to mess around. If you will kindly flip to the purple tab where all the crew information is located. There you will find a Ms. Peggy Carter who will be doing costumes. I was hoping you two would be able to coordinate. Can’t have our costumes clashing with our sets! You will also see the biography pages for Clint Barton who will be doing lights and sound and a Tony Stark who will be helping with animatronics for Audrey 2.”

Steve was taking his time looking at the crew pages. They were in depth. Very in depth. Portions of resumes were posted, as well as a small biography and a list of likes and dislike for each crew member. Against his judgment, Steve flipped to his own page. His picture was the same as his Facebook picture. Okay. That’s not that creepy. His resume section had more graphic design listed than anything, but there was a bullet that listed his few art pieces he had managed to sell to private collectors. Thankfully his hunky priest calendar was not recorded.

“Okay.” Steve glanced around the office, softly closing the binder. Angie and Bucky were sitting next to each other on the opposite sofa, enraptured in their own private conversation. Bucky looked irritated, but Angie looked ten shades of delighted. Steve made a gesture in their direction, nodding at Pepper. Pepper was looking at Steve, expectantly.

Angie’s head turned in Steve’s direction, her smile wide, arms linked through Buckys. “Oh you’re gonna love English, er, I mean Pegs. I mean Peggy. She’s a pistol! I can’t wait to see what she works up for you.”

“Right. A pistol.” Steve quickly marked the word pistol with a question mark by Peggy’s picture in his binder. “Okay. And Clint Barton will be in charge of lights and sounds. I’m assuming that also means he will be at every rehearsal, so we can do some color swatches to see what reflects best. And if I recall, from your email Ms. Potts, the rest of the crew will be arriving shortly? Will the understudies also be present? I want to make sure the sets compliment everyone, whether they end up on stage or not.” 

Pepper pushed her chair out abruptly, letting it make a sharp sliding noise on the floor., quickly crossing the space between her desk and sofa to plop down dramatically next to Steve. Throwing her arms behind Steve’s shoulder, Pepper looked him straight in the eyes. “Mr. Rogers. You and I are going to get along swimmingly.” The sparkle in her eye was infectious.

Steve smiled, genuinely smiled, at her in response. “Ms. Potts. I couldn’t agree any less.” Rising to his feet, he turned to Bucky and Angie, giving them the same smile. “I’m really excited to be here. I had had my reservations but,” Steve turned his full attention to Bucky, who was mirroring the smile on Steves' face, “I think this is going to be a lot of fun.”

* * *

 

The rest of the crew started pouring in shortly after they wrapped their meeting in Peppers office. Steve was sitting in the front row, checking off pictures in his binder as people entered, trying to tally who was a winter compared to the summers when a body filled the empty seat next to his.

“Hi.” Bucky’s face was tinted pink. “I figured since you're new here, and most of the people are repeat offenders, I might give you the dirt on who is who. Ya know. The stuff not in the binders.” Bucky angled his body closer to Steve's, flipping the armrest up, closing the space between them. “Obviously,” Bucky pointed to himself, “I’m Bucky. Could also be an angel though.” Steve wasn’t sure, but he thought Bucky might have winked at him.

Steve, trying to be cooler than he was, flipped to Buckys page in his binder, which he definitely hadn’t memorized by now. He took his time reading over the page. Occasionally casting a glance in Bucky's direction. Bucky was either ecstatic or horrified. Maybe a little of both? Steve took one last glance at the page before reciting. “James Barnes. Current role, Seymour Krelborn. Previous roles include Hamlet, Willy Wonka, and Elder Arnold Cunningham.” Taking a breath, Steve slowly moved his finger down the page before continuing. “When not on stage, James is an adjunct professor. Some of his classes taught include Pop Culture and Science, Progressive Technologies, and Connecting Literature to Current Events.”

Steve turned to look at Bucky, who had his eyes trained on Steves' face. Not entirely sure where his confidence was coming from, Steve continued repeating what was on the page. “Mr. Barnes is a valuable asset to Pepper Potts Playhouse. Through his combined efforts of acting, mechanics, and being a various jack of all trades we are excited to have him returning to star in our production of Little Shop.” Popping the p in shop, Steve looked back to the binder, letting his grin overtake his face. This back and forth is easy, Steve thought. It was nice. 

“Okay punk. You can recite what's on a page.” Bucky was leaning closer now, propping his arm on the back of Steves chair. “But that page doesn’t tell you the fundamental things.” Bucky was close enough that Steve could smell peppermint.

“Okay then." Steve nodded. "Why don’t you enlighten me? What are the fundamental things?” Bucky leaned closer, mouth hovering above Steve’s ear. Steve stilled, the combination of peppermint and hot breath almost overwhelming. He could sense Bucky licking his lips, the movement quick. Bracing himself, Steve whispered, “go on.”

Bucky hesitated, then seeming to make a decision, voice low. “I really, really, really like noodles.”

The laugh that escaped Steve was loud and full. He playfully pushed Bucky away. “Don’t be a jerk! You really had me going there for a second.” Steve wiped a stray tear from his face, leaning back in his chair, noticing Bucky's arm was still propped up on the back. Be cool. Don’t blow this. Steve took a deep breath, lungs still tight from earlier. “Okay Barnes. Give me the dirt.” 

Bucky pulled himself into his own seat, angling his head towards the stage. The rest of the crew were talking amongst themselves. There was a curvy brunette taking random peoples measurements. A redhead being followed around by a blond with a purple hearing aid. Two men standing next to each other, one holding a terracotta planter pot, the other waving his arms around at the man with the plant pot. A random gaggle of girls, surrounding an uninteresting looking man.

Bucky pointed to the gaggle first. “That's Helen, Darcy, and Brock. Helen’s okay. She has amazing range. Darcy takes a little time to get use to. She has no filter, so to speak. The tall guy is Brock. He’s kind of an asshole. He auditioned for Seymour. He’s not that happy that he didn’t get it.”

Steve was writing in shorthand in his binder. He drew an at sign by Brock’s name. Better to keep his distance there. Steve drew music notes by Helen's picture and a question mark by Darcy's.

“You know Angie already," Bucky continued. "The curvy brunette that is taking everyone's measurements, you probably figured, is Peggy. That's Angie's girlfriend.”

Steve flipped to the crew's page in his binder and drew squiggle lines by Peggy's picture next to the word pistol he had put there earlier. Quickly flipping to Angie's page, he added some identical lines to her picture.

“The guy holding the flower pot is Bruce. He’s pretty laid back unless you piss him off. Then he's a monster. But he comes down pretty quickly and always apologizes. Bruce is going to voice Audrey 2. The guy next to him is Tony. He’s kind of a genius. He’s the one who is going to be designing Audrey 2. I’m pretty sure he and Pepper have something going on but Peppers too classy to ever say anything.”

Steve added a little robot by Tony's picture. Then a squiggle with a question mark next to it. Quickly flipping to Pepper's page and adding the same squiggle. He found Bruce's picture in the cast section and added a tiny circle with an exclamation point in the center.

“The redhead is Natasha. She may or may not be a spy. She also may or may not be from Russia. No one knows for sure. She does, however, have the most beautiful voice. She’s also a trained dancer. Her, Helen, and Darcy are going to be the singing trio.”

Steve nodded, adding music notes by Natasha's picture. Then quickly sketched a pair of stick figures dancing. Bucky leaned over to look at the sketches, smiling at the dancing figures.

“The blond guy following Nat around is Clint. He’s in charge of lights, as you know. He is also hopelessly in love with Natasha, but he doesn’t think anyone knows." Bucky winked. "Everyone knows.”

Steve smiled, then drew a lightbulb by Clint's name. “The older guy is Erik Selvig. I don’t really know much about him. He goes method, so its hard to determine what is really him, ya know? He is going to be Mr. Mushnik, owner of the flower shop.”

Steve nodded, adding a small interlooping rectangle to Erik's picture. He flipped the pages making sure everyone had a clue attached to their picture. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Steve turned to Buckys page. Carefully, Steve drew a bowl of noodles by Bucky's name. The booming laugh from next to him left Steve smiling for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

Steve was taking the short walk back to his house from the playhouse, enjoying the cool summer air. The day had gone much better than he had anticipated. Steve had exchanged numbers with Peggy, Tony, and Clint. There was an agreement that they would meet by the end of the week to get started on everything. Bucky and Angie also got Steve’s number. At the end of the night, after the cast had played several get to know each other games, Bucky had asked Steve if he would like to help him with his lines. Steve was pretty sure that was a feeble attempt at getting him alone. Or at least he hoped it was. Steve smiled remembering the ease that was between him and Bucky. Yeah. He at least made a new friend today, if anything. An incredibly attractive, incredibly smooth new friend. Steve tried to remember the last time he had been on a date. Years. It'd been years. For sure. Here's to hoping. The crosswalk light changed, and Steve crossed, quickly reaching the steps of his house.

Slowly climbing his steps, Steve felt his phone vibrate. He reached into his pocket to grab both his phone and keys, slowly opening his door. Once inside, Steve opened his phone screen to see a text from Bucky.

_Really looking forward to running lines. Maybe I’ll make some noodles as a way of thanks :)_

Steve, smiling at his phone, didn’t hear the set of footsteps approach him. Steve managed to type out ‘That sounds great because I really, really, really like noodles too' before being abruptly pushed against the wall, yelping at the sudden contact. He was trapped. There was no getting out of this now.

“Sam! Grab his phone! He’s smiling at it! Intel is needed!” Riley had Steve locked against the wall, his legs pressing Steve’s knees apart. Steve struggled against his grip, successfully elbowing him in the stomach before having his arms pressed back up. In the scuffle, Sam had grabbed Steve’s phone and run to the bathroom. Steve heard the lock slide into place as Riley let him go, chasing after Sam. “Come on baby! Don’t keep me hanging! Who is our Stevie texting at this late hour?”

Steve followed Riley, hammering on the door! “Come on Sam! I hadn’t even hit send yet! At least hit send for me! Give me my phone back!” He could feel Riley vibrating next to him. “Give me my phone back!" From the other side of the door, Sam was squealing.

“Reallllly looking forward to running lines…” Then a pause. “Oh hell no! Steve. This guy is trying to seduce you with pasta.” A break, then, “Steve! You little shit! You’re trying to seduce _him_ with pasta! Riley! Steve and this Bucky are using pasta as a metaphor for sex!”

Riley squealed. Sam yelled about the improper use of noodles. Steve banged his head against the bathroom door.


	3. Act 1.2- Ba Boo

Steve was sitting with the rest of the crew at the small coffee shop across the street from Pepper Potts Playhouse. Currently, Steve was listening to Tony and Peggy argue about the colors of Audrey 2. Apparently being in charge of costumes also meant you had a say in everything else.

Across the street, the B crew was running through production. That left Kate and Peter alone in the sound booth, while the A crew gorged on pastries and espresso. Steve has never been on an 'A' crew before unless you counted Sam. Sam was his own type of A team. But the people sitting with Steve were quickly becoming a part of his daily life, what with the regular texts from Peggy and the midnight emails from Tony. The group chats that he could barely keep up with. He wasn’t complaining though. It was nice to feel needed.

Steve was really going to have to thank Sam later. Much later. Once he stopped pretending to be annoyed at him.

Peggy sat her mug down sharply on the table. “Anthony, we simply cannot shape Audrey 2 like an actual robot. That defeats the entire purpose of the production! It must be a plant. With a space in it for the people to sit who get swallowed.” Peggy was right, of course. Peggy was right most of the time. "A hollow space. Can you do that, Anthony?"

“Look here English." Tony was spinning his stirring stick, apparently pleased with himself. "These animatronics are very sophisticated. Shaping them like a plant would be a waste! An actual waste of Stark Technology. Steve? Steve, tell her I’m right.”

Steve stirred his coffee knowing full well he wasn't actually needed in this conversation. And sure enough, seconds later Peggy and Tony were already arguing schematics again. It had been two weeks since Steves first meeting with Pepper Potts Playhouse. Two weeks of bickering over coffee and washing paint from his hair. In two weeks time, Steve had managed to block out his sets, attach the ones that need to be moved quickly to wheels, and sketch a few designs for Audrey 2. He was waiting for his paint to be delivered and had found a few great pieces on eBay for props. Just today, Steve had decided to use both sides of the sets for quick and easy scene changes. The flower shop set was almost done, and the dentist office and radio office were both blocked out and were in the process of sketching the residential house for the somewhere that's green segment. All in all, Steve was pretty pleased with himself. It was a lot to get done in two weeks.

“Perhaps we should involve Ms. Potts in this decision then? Hmm?", Peggy sipped her tea. "Is that something you want to do, Anthony?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I think we both know I would.”

Discreetly, Steve pulled his phone out and snapped a picture of Peggy and Tony. They were both leaning across the table, glaring at each other now. Peggy had curls framing her face the epitome of calm and Tonys eyes were narrowed at her, the grip on his small espresso cup so tight it was a wonder the cup hadn't shattered. Art. This was art. Steve texted it to Bucky not even feeling the slightest bit bad.

In the two weeks since their first meeting, Steve had spoken with Bucky almost every day. They had started running lines together almost instantly, which meant Steve was eating a lot more noodles than he'd previously been eating. On the days Bucky didn’t have to teach, they would meet at the park before rehearsal. On the days Bucky did have classes, Bucky would stay at the playhouse after practice and help Steve with his sets. Bucky already knew all of his parts and most of everyone else's. Honestly? Steve knew most of the lines now also.

But lines hadn't been the only thing Steve had learned. In these two weeks, Steve had learned that Bucky really enjoyed the few classes he taught every semester but really hated grading the work. Bucky grew up on a farm, and he spoke with his sister almost every day. Bucky's sister, Becca, already had her ticket reserved for preview night, the day before opening night.

Steve pulled his notepad from his bag to start sketching ideas while Tony and Peggy kept arguing. He'd just flipped to a clean page when he heard the snore. Clint was sitting next to Steve also ignoring Peggy and Tony. Or so Steve had thought. Clint was adequately passed out, head rolled back, to go cup tightly gripped in his hand, hearing aids laid on the table. Steve kicked him. No way was Clint getting out of this meeting. Not if Steve had to sit through it. Clint bolted up, panicked, then relaxed once he remembered where he was.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash, the cafe quickly becoming shrouded in darkness. Peggy and Tony stopped arguing, Tony almost jumping in Peggy's lap. Clint turned his head at the sudden loss of light. Steve all but fell out of his chair. Outside the shop window, there hung a giant sun marquee, dangling upside down, blocking all natural light from entering the cafe.

Steve, regaining some of his composure first, did what anyone would do and pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly snapping a picture of the scene. Suns just don't fall from the sky every day. Even fake suns. Steve wanted it well documented for when he Sam and Riley later.

The cafe patrons were gathering by the window, and the scene was quickly turning into something hurried. Clint shook his head at the scene. “That's some crazy shit. Kate’s never going to believe this.” Steve saw Clint take a picture with his phone, before shoving it back in his pocket and heading for the door. Turning to Steve, Clint signed to him “Probably should go help,” before pushing through the door to the outside street. Clint ran right into the madness, helping the man who owned the flower cart pick up his roses. Steve, turning around, cast a glance at Peggy and Tony. Tony still in Peggy's lap. Sighing, Steve made his way outside to help move the sun marquee out from in front of the shop.

* * *

 

Steve and Clint had managed to help most of the vendors gather their scattered items from the mess. Peggy, single-handedly, pulled the sun marquee off its hanging threads, freeing the cafe from the darkness and simultaneously flustering Steve bright red into a reverent state of awe. Tony had walked straight back to the playhouse, muttering something about his nerves, while clutching his chest. It took the three of them, plus all the vendors and cafe workers less than an hour to clean everything up before they were finally able to make it back to the playhouse.

Clint took a turn for the stairs as soon as they were inside, heading towards the sound booth, throwing a salute at Steve. Saluting back, Steve walked into the auditorium.

Rehearsal appeared normal. Which was weird. Guess no one heard the commotion outside? Looking for a good seat, Steve made his way towards the middle of the auditorium.

Bucky was on the stage, mid-practice, with Helen, Darcy, and Natasha. The four of them harmonizing, and all completely aware of the day's events. Bucky had on a white t-shirt with a bow tie and baseball cap. Steve grabbed his phone and took another picture, just as Bucky swung his arms in the air. Steve felt, more than saw, Peggy take the empty seat next to him. Leaning over, she whispered, “they’re quite good, you know.” Steve nodded.

Glancing at her quickly, Steve noticed Peggy's smile, her dark eyes focused on Angie. He had seen that look before, countless times, radiating out of the kitchen of his home. Quick glances cast at each other, wrapped together on the sofa. Yeah. He'd seen that look before. Steve pushed his small shoulders into hers, nodding in Angie’s direction. The blush that filled her face was breathtaking. He stared at her staring at Angie. Maybe in another life, Steve thought, smiling with her.

Focusing his attention back on the stage, Steve relaxed into his seat. The singing trio was standing slightly behind the main cast, harmonizing. Bucky caught Steve’s eye as he moved to center stage, letting his voice fill the auditorium. Steve held his gaze, not one to back down. And Bucky? Bucky was just as good at this game as Steve, Bucky's eyes, locked with Steves like he was singing only for him.

“so I was just about to, ya know, walk on by,”

Bucky walked to the left, where random cast members were imitating street life. Eerily similar to the scene outside the Playhouse earlier. Peggy grabbed Steves arm, her body shaking with silent laughs. Steve, eyes still locked with Bucky's, leaned closer to her side. “Whats so funny?”, Steve whispered, but Peggys quite shakes were more intense by the measure. On the stage, Bucky was getting into it, swinging his hips, jumping stage left. Peggy's grip on Steve was tightening. Her silent laughs turning into low wheezes. The trio moved their arms counterclockwise, harmonizing behind Bucky.

"The song!" Peggy shook Steve's arm. "The song, Steve!"

Angie was watching Peggy, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity on her face. Peggy was using her free hand to point at the stage, shaking it in silent protest. Soundless words leaving her mouth, throwing desperate looks between Steve and Angie. Bucky continued the song, a slight crease forming between his eyes.

“And without warning," Bucky sang, eyes still trained on Steve but also now watching Peggy. "There was this total eclipse of the sun.”

At this, Peggy lost it and was no longer able to control her laughter. She let out a loud “Baa!” as she released Steve’s arm to grab her stomach, using her other arm to point at the stage. Steve, realizing what she had been trying to say, started laughing with her. His laughter spiraling into the same hysterics as Peggy's, both leaning on each other for support. The music was still playing, but all singing had stopped. Everyones focus entirely on the two unable to control themselves in the audience. Peggy was sliding from her seat, not able to remain upright. She hit the floor with a soft thud. Steve, watching Peggy roll on the floor, pointed at her letting out a deep laugh. He could feel his lungs tightening at the excitement but hardly cared.

Peggy was now pointing at Steve, who was still pointing at Peggy. The resounding echoes of their laughter filling the auditorium. Steve started to slide out of his chair, clutching his stomach, rolling on top of Peggy in the process. The two wholly tangled together, brown curled hair covering both of their faces, Steve's glasses in Peggy’s hands. The entire situation so ludicrous they both started laughing again, both gasping for air by the time Angie and Bucky arrive at their sides.

“Alright, Pegs." Angie laughs. "Time to fess up.”

Steve is still lying on Peggy's stomach, laughing, as Angie places a kiss on Peggy's brow. Reaching into his pocket, Steve pulls his phone free, unlocking the screen to the photo gallery. Steve looks up at Bucky, audibly wheezing. Bucky extends his hand to Steve, attempting to pull him off of Peggy. Steve, in turn, shoves his phone in Bucky’s face. The confused look on Bucky's face as he tries to understand the picture makes Steve's heart swell. Beneath him, Peggy is barely managing to pull herself together, tears streaming down her face from laughing so hard.

  
In the commotion, a voice is heard over the sound system. “Um. Excuse me. Can someone tell me why Clint is rolling on the floor mumbling about the sun?” This sets Peggy and Steve off into another fit of laughter.

* * *

 

“So you’re telling me, you guys were just sitting there drinking coffee, and a giant sun fell in front of the store? And then when you came back to the playhouse, we just so happened to be practicing Da-Doo?” Bucky threw a suspicious glance in Steve's direction.

“I’m telling you that is exactly what happened.” Steve bumped Bucky's side with his elbow. They were walking towards the hardware store, on their way to pick up more supplies for Steve’s sets. The paint and wallpaper that Steve had ordered had arrived, and now Steve was fully stocked to really get moving into the creative process. As soon as they picked up his supplies, that is.

“That's just,” Bucky glanced up towards the sky, shielding his eyes from the glare, “that's just really weird.” Abruptly stopping, Bucky grabbed onto Steves' hand, pulling him back. “Steve, that's a bad omen if I’ve ever heard of one.”

Looking at his hand in Bucky's, he experimentally intertwined their fingers. Bucky still looked severe, but there was no resistance at the hand holding. Mentally, Steve high-five himself. Steve, with his skinny frame of five foot three, pulled the man along behind him, casting Bucky a glance of skepticism as a reply. They had to look ridiculous. Bucky was almost a full foot taller than Steve was. Bucky was toned, whereas Steve was just skinny. Bucky's hair was loose, being held in place by the same ball cap he had on earlier. His blue eyes, appearing more grey in the sunlight, worriedly flashed down to Steve's. “I’m serious Steve! This play is doomed. That proves it.”

“Okay,” Steve rubbed the back of Bucky's hand with his thumb, nodding in mock agreement. “The play is," Steve said, "in fact, doomed.” Steve wasn’t sure where his courage was coming from. He wasn't too thrilled about his first set design being for a doomed play, but these theater types were stereotypically superstitious. If today had proved anything, it was that. And things were easy with Bucky. It felt like they had known each other much longer than just the past couple weeks. With Bucky, Steve didn’t feel like the sickly little guy, he felt stronger. More confident. Steve pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, turning to look at Bucky. “So, how do we undoom it?”

“That's just the problem, Steve," Bucky whined. "Once a play is doomed, it's doomed!” Steve could feel Bucky's thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

Tell ya what, Buck, let's look at it this way." Steve nodded. "Would Han Solo ever accept his fate of general doomed? Did Indiana Jones ever stop looking for those artifacts, even when he knew there was going to be someone trying to stop him? Did Norman Spencer ever stop trying to cover up what lied beneath? What about President James Marshall? Did he ever stop trying to reclaim Air Force One, even though everyone thought him dead? James Barnes, do you know what all these men had in common?”

"Yes." Bucky glanced down, a grin replacing the worried look, his eyes narrowing as he replied. “All of these men were Harrison Ford. Do you have a thing for Harrison Ford, Stevie?”

“Ehhh! Wrong answer! Well, right answer. Yes, to answer your question, Harrison Ford is the ultimate. But that's a different subject and not the answer I was looking for. All these men were doomed, Bucky! And yet, somehow, they all came out on top. Well," Steve corrected, "except for Spencer. He was a bad example. Forget I said, Spencer.” Steve flexed his hand in Buckys. “I know it seems crazy, but one little freak accident isn’t going to condemn the entire show, Buck. I won’t let it. Not gonna let that happen to you.”

“Yeah?" Bucky laughed. "And how you gonna stop it, punk?” Approaching the intersection, Bucky rolled his shoulders, swinging their arms together. With precise annunciation, Bucky batted his lashes at the smaller man, pouting his lips. Steve felt his heart speed up, skipping another beat. Steve could feel Bucky searching him, looking into his eyes, trying to find answers to unspoken questions. Bucky's eyes flickered down to Steve's lips just as someone crashed into Steve, causing Steve to lose his footing.

Steve tripped over himself, flailing his arms in an attempt to gain balance. Bucky reached out, grabbing Steve’s shoulders before he collided with the pavement. Bucky helped Steve steady his balance, before gently straightening the glasses back on Steves' face, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “Gotta be careful, Stevie.” Bucky ran his hands down the sides of Steves' arms, leaving Steve momentarily speechless. "You're working on a doomed play."

Nerves getting the better of him, Steve laughed, tearing his eyes from Buckys. Looking anywhere but at his face. “Well, uh, thanks. For that.” Letting his voice drop, Steve attempted to play off the moment, completely ignoring how fazed he actually was. “Sam would kill me if I came home all bruised up again. He would never believe it was from a fall and not some guy punching my face in.” Steve laughed, hoping it would lighten the moment. Because that was the perfect thing to say to lighten the mood.  
  
A frustrated groan escaped Bucky's mouth. “Come on Stevie! Don’t tell me you get into a lot of fights.” Bucky pulled Steve’s hand back into his, urging them forward, closer to their destination.

Determined, Steve steeled his face, squaring his shoulders, before he answered. “I only fight bullies.”

“For some reason, I absolutely believe that.”

“Okay.” Steve laughed, “Now I’m going to call you a jerk.”

Crossing the street, they headed towards the hardware store.

* * *

 

Steve was wiping his glasses off on his shirt, observing his finished set piece. Steve had attached picture frames to the wall and cut out a window. On the opposite side, he had painted the outside of the flower shop, even attaching an awning to the window. Steve had been hyperfocused on finishing this piece and had turned his phone off. Now that it was done, though, he had several missed calls and a few texts from Riley.

 _Steve!_  
_Come home soon! We’re saving Starship Troopers until you get back._

Sighing, Steve texted back. _Just finishing up. Be home soon._

Bucky had stayed to help Steve with props, as was quickly becoming their routine. It was Friday night, and he didn’t have classes to lecture on the weekends. Bucky had been grading papers when they both decided coffee was needed. Seeing Bucky in his jacket, Steve realized how cold it was. He picked his flannel off the floor, quickly sliding into it. Bucky was walking up the stairs, inspecting the flower shop as he drew closer, holding Steve's coffee out to him.

“Steve. This looks amazing. Look. You even put molding on the top and bottom.” He walked to the other side, exclaiming loudly. “No way! You textured the bricks! Steve. These look like real bricks! This is one of the best set pieces we’ve ever had.”

Steve's coffee was black. Steve took a sip. Yep, tasted like three sugars. Perfect. “So all I have left to do is,” Steve ticked his fingers off, “the dentist office, the radio station, and the dream house. So basically everything.” Bucky was squatting on the floor, looking at the mail drop Steve had inserted into the shop door, and suddenly Steve wasn't ready for the night to end. “Hey, Buck?” Steve, staring into his coffee, took several deep breaths. “I um, well, my roommates and I are having a Starship Troopers marathon tonight. I’m pretty sure Sam is making a flat crust. Do you, uh. Well, do you want to um.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Cool it, Rogers. Just spit it out.

“Yeah." Bucky answered, "I would love to.”

"Huh?" Opening his eyes, Steve saw Bucky smiling at him and sweet mercy the smile. Death could be cured with that smile.

“It just so happens I had intended on going jogging tonight,” Bucky sipped his coffee - also black, more sugar than actual coffee. “But something more interesting came up. Just now. With you. So,” Bucky gestured towards the exit, “how far is your place from here?”

“Ten blocks." Pulling out his phone, Steve sent Riley a heads up that he was bringing a guest. "Not far at all. Takes maybe twenty minutes to walk.” Steve's phone vibrated instantly.

_"Steven Grant Rogers! You sly fox."_

This message was quickly followed by one from Sam. _"Riley says_ you’re bring _Bucky to meet the folks!"_ Steve shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“Steve?” Steve looked up from his phone, ignoring the rapid and constant vibrations. “How do you feel about motorcycles?” 

 

* * *

 

What would typically take Steve twenty minutes walking, took them ten minutes on the bike. Steve was wearing Bucky's helmet, arms wrapped around his waist. Bucky, navigating the lights, had his eyes and ears trained on the directions Steve was relaying to him. If they sat strictly closer than needed, well..it had been an exciting day. Bucky pulled up next to Steve’s steps. The moment Bucky turned the bike off just as the front door opened. Light pouring out, obstructed by a matching pair of shadows.

Sliding his hands from Bucky's waist, Steve slid off the bike. Sam and Riley were standing in the front door, both had their hands across their abdomen. Steve barked a laugh. Bucky looked at the pair, back to Steve. Hesitantly, Bucky grinned at the couple in the doorway. Steve could see Sam smirk.

“Don’t worry about them, Buck,” Steve assured. “They’re just trying to look tougher than they really are.” Reaching for his hand, Steve pulled Bucky up the stairs.

* * *

 

“You can’t be serious?” Steve rose to his feet, pointing his slice of pizza at the television. “Sam. Tell me he’s not serious? Riley, you can’t seriously believe that about this movie?”

“Why not? The movie is so bad, it’s good. It's intentionally bad!” Rising from his seat, Riley walked to the kitchen, grabbing another pie to replace the one they had already eaten. “Whats not to like? On its surface is a simple war movie about bugs who destroy the planet.” He set the pizza on the table. Bucky quickly grabbed two more slices, settling himself back into the sectional, enraptured by the debate. Sam, use to situations like this, ignored the two men, continuing to watch the movie. Using a slice of pizza to point at Steve, Riley continued “It's satire, Steve! On its surface, the bugs are attacking the attractive people. Forcing them into an interstellar war that seems impossible to win. Then the attractive people claim their retribution for an attack, that yes, hurt them. But was it really an attack? Was it something the bugs did out of malice? Or were the bugs the ones being persecuted? Its self-defense, being portrayed through the eyes of the stronger party. The party you know is going to win, and because this party is going to win, they can portray the bugs anyway they want to. Of course, the movie makes it look like they are under attack. It's satire.” Riley licked his finger, mimicking a point being drawn in the air. Sam, who still had his eyes glued to the screen, scooted over on the sofa to allow Riley more room to sit.

“Okay.” Steve could see that point, but it didn't mean it wasn't wrong. “Can a movie truly be satire if it capitalizes on irony? Riley, the movie is self-aware! It intended to be so bad that it came across as ironic. How can you successfully criticize something that is hiding behind its own irony? It loses all credibility because of it!” Steve took a bite of his pizza, opening his mouth to continue, crumbs falling from his face. Bucky's positioned himself, so their hips were touching. Steve, devoted to his defense, insisted “It's ironic because it's both shallowly mocking acts of war, but then it's marketing itself as an enjoyment of just that. It can’t be taken seriously because it contributes to the very thing it's preaching against.”

Sam, still watching the movie, licked his finger, drawing a mark in the air for Steve. Riley gasped in betrayal.

Taking a drink to clear his throat, Bucky took the brief moment of silence to contribute his opinion. “Okay. But if a satirical movie is self-aware, and profits through its ironies, then would the movie not become an irony itself?” Bucky pointed his finger at Riley, “ what you’re saying is that because this movie is a joke it becomes serious satire.”

Riley threw his arms in the air in celebration. Sam, who was still watching the movie, ducked his head to avoid getting hit. “Yes! That is exactly what I’m saying. See, Steve,” gesturing his arms at Bucky, “this guy gets it!” Steve huffed, giving Bucky a betrayed look.

“Wait, I’m not done.” Bucky smiled at Steve, throwing his arm around the back of the chair. “Stevie, you’re saying the movie can’t be satire because it's a product of its own joke. I agree.”

Steve jumped from the sectional, pizza in hand, loudly declaring a “Ha!” at Riley.

Bucky grabbed Steve's waist, pulling him back down next to him. “As I was saying. I agree with Steve in that it's not satire. But I can’t agree that the movie is self-aware either.” Steve turned to Bucky, eyes narrowing. “A satire, at its core, is condemning the actions of its subject through humor and wit. Instead of attacking the idea of war, Starship Troopers glorifies it through propaganda. I mean,” Bucky points to the television just as a giant bug explodes, “the very core of this film makes the viewer sympathize with the lead, who ends up being the picture boy for the effort. That is neither funny or witty. It's not really even that clever. Its just a shallow movie, with interesting CGI, pretending to be more than it is.”

Steve smiled at Bucky. Bucky smiled at Steve. Riley scratched his head. Sam watched the movie.

“Huh. He’s right.” Riley turned to Steve. “Steve. He’s right.” Beaming, Steve settled closer to Bucky's side, pulling his arm off the back of the sofa and around himself. Bucky pressed his side firmly against Steves. Yawning, Steve replied, “Of course he’s right.” Steve bragged, “Mostly. He's mostly right."

“So,” From his spot opposite the sofa, Sam smirked, shaking a small box. “Who wants to continue this debate during the sequel?” The other three men groaned.

 

* * *

   
The picture on the tv screen blinked off, causing the two men wrapped around each other to stir slightly. Steve pushed his face deeper into Bucky's neck. Bucky shifted, moving his neck to the side to accommodate, wrapping his arm tighter around the smaller man, pulling Steve closer to himself.

Quietly, both men's shoes were removed, being placed neatly by the door. Riley removed Steve's glasses from his face, setting them on the side table next to two bottles of water. Sam gently propped Bucky's feet up on the sectional, allowing both sleeping men more room to move. Riley covered them with a blanket, and then another.

“Just in case.” He whispered to Sam. “I don’t want them to get too cold.”

Sam gestured towards their bedroom, intertwining their hands. “Well, darling,” he tugged Riley with him, “I guess our trio is now a quartet.” Riley nodded in agreement.

From the sofa, a content sigh escaped. Neither could tell who it was from.


	4. Act 1.3- Ya Never Know

Steve jerked awake at the loud crash of thunder, barely hearing the soft vibrations of his phone on the nightstand. Head full of fog, Steve grabbed his phone, not entirely awake. Bucky's name was on the screen, the LED light strobing in the sharply in the dark. Still not knowing if he was awake, Steve touched the screen.

“'ello? Buck?” Hearing the deep chuckle Steve had become so accustomed to, Steve relaxed back into his pillow, “Mmm…, Bucky.” If he was dreaming, this was a good dream. Rolling to his back, his flannel pants hitching around his waist, Steve's hand trailed down his exposed chest. “Hiya Buck.” Drifting somewhere between awake and asleep, Steve’s mind drifted to weeks ago when he had woke up in Bucky's arm, just twenty feet from where he was now. Bucky's face had been soft and beautiful, a smile lifting his lips, his chin resting lightly on Steve's good ear. At that moment, Steve had known he was gone for the man. “Mmmm..” Tracing his hand down his stomach, Steve imagines Bucky tight grip around his waist, their two bodies pressed close next to each other. Steve could still feel Buckys warm breath next to his ear, the way his stubble had felt rough against his face.  
  
The staticky hitched breathing in his ear stirred Steve from his dream. “Bucky?” Steve rubbed his face, rolling to his side, awake now. The alarm clock blinked 3:00 AM.  
  
“Steve. Hey buddy. You can’t do that and expect me to make it through the day, ya punk. Not with you on the other end of the line.”  
  
Steve scooted to the edge of his bed, throwing his feet over the side. “I'm awake now.” Leaning forward, Steve flipped the light on his nightstand. “Bucky?”  
  
Bucky sounded like he had his face pressed against the phone, his words more enunciated than usual. “Having a good dream there? You thinking of me, sweetheart? Wanna tell me what ya were doing with those perfect hands of yours?”

Oh.

Well.

“You called me Buck," Steve replied, never one to back down, Steve wasn’t about to let Bucky get the upper hand. After all, Bucky had called him. "What can I do for you at such an early time of day on such a stormy morning?”

A tortured moan erupted from phone speaker. “Steeevie.” Bucky was whining now, and Steve felt a sense of pride at being the one to make that happen. He could picture Bucky rubbing the area between his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah. Steve knew what he was doing. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“You were supposed to pick me up twenty minutes ago. Ya know? And drop me off at Peppers. Cause we have the podcast this afternoon? And the weatherman had said it was going to storm, which, look at that. It's storming. And as we both agreed that one should not drive a bike in a storm, you were going to pick me up for early breakfast and then take me to Peppers. So Pepper and I can make the five-hour drive to the studio.”

With a fast approaching two month deadline, everything was moving fast for Pepper Potts Playhouse. Bucky and Pepper had been offered to guest host on the Kiss of Theater podcast. This was the first time Pepper Potts Playhouse had been invited onto Kiss of Theater. Among the theater community, Kiss of Theater could make or break a play. It was a massive deal for everyone.

"Steve?"

Oh shit.

“Oh, shit!" Steve quickly grabbed his boots and a zip up as he ran out his bedroom door not bothering to change from his pajamas or put on a shirt. I’m on my way right now!”

* * *

 

The rain was beating the windshield as Steve pulled up to Bucky's apartment, Steve's zip-up hanging loosely open, boots left untied at his feet. Through the lobby door, he could see Bucky standing by the window, bag thrown over his shoulder, watching for him. Steve honked his horn as he pulled up, leaning over to open the passenger door. Bucky ran outside, hat covering his head, jumping in the seat.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. So nice of you to remember our date.”

Steve took a quick glance at Bucky, taking in his appearance. He was wearing black jeans with a burgundy button up. Over his button up, he had a grey sweater. A newsboy cap adorning his head, his hair flowing freely underneath it. Even in the early morning darkness, Steve could tell the colors looked great on him. He would have to add some burgundy as an accent into the flower shop set. It would really draw the focus to Bucky.

“Eyes on the road Steve.”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Right.” Steve focused his eyes in front of him. “I got you some food. Sitting in the back seat. Figured it was the least I could do since we don’t have time for breakfast now.”

Bucky's laugh filled the car. He didn’t seem bothered, the smile on his face soft and comfortable. Easily the best thing Steve had seen all morning. Steve felt Bucky drag his eyes down his exposed torso, right to the elastic waist of his pajama bottoms. He could see him biting his lip out of the corner of his eye while he grabs the bagged food, Bucky cupped the side of Steves' face. Steve let himself lean into Bucky's caress as they stopped at a light. Bucky rubbed his thumb up under Steve's ear, tracing the outline of his face.

Taking advantage of the red light, Steve threw the car into park, using both hands to pull Bucky's face to his. A brief moment of motionlessness, then fingers running through hair, hats being cast aside, lips exploring each other. Rain continued lapping the car as lightning filled the sky, mimicking the electricity inside the car. Steve tilted to the right, while Bucky leaned to the left, letting their mouths come together seamlessly, Steves face firmly placed between Bucky's hands. Soft moans escaping, from who wasn't important. The kiss was hurried and messy and the most natural thing Steve had ever experienced. Steve's seatbelt restricting his movement, the divider keeping Bucky too far away.

Behind them, a horn blared as a car quickly sped passed them. Steve yanked his face free from Bucky's hands, immediately grabbing the wheel as the car shook with the speed of the passing vehicle.  
Steadying his breath, Steve put the car back to drive. Bucky, still leaning over the divider, slowly opened his eyes as the car began to move forward.

Bucky stared at Steve a moment longer before finally grabbing the bag of food, a dopey grin on his face. Very similar to the one currently on the driver's face. Pulling out two biscuits from the sack, Bucky passed the larger one to the left, where slender fingers brushed his at the exchange. 

* * *

 

“Welcome back to our return listeners, this is FitzSimmons broadcasting out to all you lovely people. Today on Kiss of Theater we have _the_ Pepper Potts of Pepper Potts Playhouse accompanied by one James Barnes, who is starring as Seymour Krelborn in Little Shop of Horrors .”

Steve was wedged between Angie and Peggy, sitting cross-legged on the stage. The entire theater echoed with the sound of the interview being played over the intercom. Angie leaned against Steve’s side. Peggy clutched her clipboard of costume notes, slipping her hand in Steves. Sitting quietly in the front row, Clint bounced his knee nervously. Beside him sat Natasha, who was actively glaring at Clint's jittering knee.  
  
“So, Miss Potts," FitzSimmons says. "We took a poll. Everyone wants to know. Is this production of Little Shop going to end happily ever after or are we going to be witness to an alien feast?”  
  
Tony propped himself against the steps leading up the stage. At the sound of Peppers' voice, he cast his eyes towards the ceiling, searching for the speaker where their voices were coming from. Beside him, Bruce and Helen leaned against the stage, eyes never leaving the floor, a half-finished Audrey 2 sat behind them on the stage. The only person not anxious with the interview currently unfolding was Brock, who was loudly snoring from the back row of the auditorium. Over his snores came Peppers reply.  
  
“Now, if I told you how we were going to end it, what would be the point in coming to see it?” Pepper laughed. Steve could picture her reaching out to touch the interviewer's shoulder. He closed his eyes, tightening his grip on Peggy’s hand. Pepper continued. “I’m very proud of this one. Our cast has worked day in and day out. FitzSimmons, the cast is amazing! You can just feel their passion in the air. We have Stark Technologies designing Audrey 2 for us. We recently acquired a lovely artist by the name of Steven Rogers who is our new set designer. Just you wait until you see our sets! We were lucky finding Mr. Rogers. He puts as much passion into designing the sets as James over here does in his portrayal of Seymour.” Steve felt his face heat up, picturing the smirk on Bucky's face.  
  
The interviewer laughed. “Okay. Okay! So the sets are gorgeous. James is gorgeous. Miss Potts, did you say that Stark Technologies, as in Tony Stark, was designing your Audrey 2? I bet that's is going to be gorgeous as well! ”

There was laughing before the answer. “Tony is a personal friend of mine. He normally always helps out with production in some form, but when I mentioned I wanted an Audrey 2 that could move and expand, Tony jumped at the opportunity. It's rather impressive." Pepper answered. "I’m anxious for everyone to see it. And yes, Audrey 2 is gorgeous as well!”

At the mention of his technology, Tony turned around, viewing his scattered Audrey 2 pieces on the stage floor, the color draining from his face before silently walking up the stairs to start assembling more of Audrey 2, leaving Bruce by himself with Helen in front of the stage.

The interview continued, the interviewers delivering a brief summary of the play. “For those not familiar, Little Shop of Horrors follows the story of Seymour, who discovers an alien plant. The plant has darker motives than our Seymour is privy to and ends up causing all kinds of trouble for our guy. All Seymour wants is for the pretty Audrey, who he names the plant after, to notice him. Its a comedic science fiction story, with repercussions that change everyone's lives. And what of you, Mr. Barnes? What can we expect from your portrayal of Seymour?”  
  
Angie wrapped her arm around Steves back, placing her hand firmly on Peggy's shoulder. Everyone knew the interview was important. The interview was the first step in Peppers plan for publicity. Everyone was expecting for it to set the tone for the rest of marketing. Steve could picture Bucky shifting in his chair, leaning forward, thinking the question over.  
  
“Well," Bucky's voice filled the theater, "I would like to say I am bringing an original portrayal of him to life. I have a few things up my sleeve, so to speak. We have a great cast. Angie Martinelli is playing Audrey, and she’s great. She’s, so great. We’ve worked together before so we already know each other really well, and that has definitely been beneficial to us adding a little bit of creativity to the show. We have a few surprises in store for everyone. For sure.” The groan of a chair being leaned back in was heard over the speakers as Bucky cleared his throat and Steve couldn't help but grin. “Plus, I just love the story. I love the humor and the darkness. It’s been enjoyable for me to be able to lose myself in it. The entire idea that there’s this one person who Seymour genuinely wants to like him. Is he the ultimate nice guy, or just misguided? Everything he does, he does for Audrey.” Bucky exhaled, long and dramatically, before he continued. “ It obviously doesn’t end like your stereotypical fairytale, but it's still a beautiful story in that Shakespearean sort of way. Is it a comedy, or is it a tragedy? It's up to the viewers interpretation.”  
  
“Well folks, we have to wrap things up here, but you heard it first from Mr. Barnes himself. Little Shop of Horrors injected with Shakespearean elements. We’ve cast it as a must see this season! We’re buying our tickets as soon as they release. The play premieres in exactly two months at Pepper Potts Playhouse. James Barnes and Angie Martinelli staring. Tickets go on sale soon. Be sure to buy them early before they sell out! As always, this has been FitzSimmons broadcasting out to you for Kiss of Theater. Tune in next week for our review of….”

From his seat, Clint turned the podcast off, casting the auditorium into silence. One by one, the room relaxed, the tension leaving like an unwanted guest. Steve retrieved his phone from his pocket, noticing Tony do the same.

" _Dude, you_ was _great on the radio. On overnight sensation. Who’d believe it_??" Steve typed, sending the message, pleased with his own joke. Sliding his phone back in his pocket, Steve laid down on the stage. He needed to finish the dentist office tonight before he let himself go home, but he really wanted to add some burgundy to the flower shop first. Steve closed his eyes, listening to the others talk around him. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Once again retrieving to view Bucky's reply.  
  
" _Don’t it show ya never know! :)_ "Beginning to type his reply, another text from Bucky popped up on his screen. " _You won’t believe who I just ran into. I’m gonna grab some soup out here with a friend. I’ll pick you up tomorrow if the roads are dry :) :)_ "  
  
" _Okay_." Steve typed his reply. " _I’m just going to do some revisions tonight. Nothing huge. See you soon jerk._ "  
  
The reply was instant. _"Who's a jerk, ya punk? See you for coffee tomorrow before fittings. Pleasant Dreams ;)"_

“What's wrong Stevie?” He looked up to see Angie studying his face.  
  
“Huh? Oh. Nothing.” Nodding towards his phone, “just talking to Bucky.”  
  
“You two gettin close, huh?” Angie’s face had gone soft. He started walking towards his unfinished set pieces, Angie following behind him.  
  
“Yeah.” Steve agreed, his eyes bright. “I think we are.”

Angie simply nodded. More somber than her normal excitable moods. Her face was twisted. She looked conflicted. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, Ang?”  
  
“I really like you, Steve. Pegs really likes ya, too. I just want to tell you though, Bucky’s family. He’s been family for a long time. Hell. Our entire theater group is family.”  
  
Steve took into consideration what she was saying, really thinking about his response, bending down to grab a paintbrush thinking of his own little family back at their brownstone. “I’m not going to break up this family, Angie. I’m kind of hoping the family can just grow. I don’t have many people in my life, and I’ve certainly never been a part of any kind of something special before.” Shrugging his shoulders, Steve mixed his paints, searching for just the right shade of burgundy. “I feel at home here.” Steve braved a look at Angie. Her face was soft again. Their eyes staying connected, a silent understanding having been reached.   
  
“Well. That's good, Stevie. Thats real good to hear. Pegs and I are going to head out now.” She bent down to her knees, same level Steve was painting the trim, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Pressing her lips to his hair, Angie leaned in, whispering “welcome home Stevie.”

* * *

 

Steve added the last of the burgundy shading to the flower shop. Snapping a picture of the finished set to send to Pepper and Peggy. He retrieved his bags, heading to the back parking lot for his car. Steve's drive home was uneventful, his phone battery dead, granting Steve a quiet ride home. Pulling up to his townhouse, Steve noted that Riley and Sam's cars were missing. Not abnormal. Steve unlocked his door, immediately going to the kitchen. As was custom, there was a note on the fridge directly above the pill chart.

_Stevie._   
_I (SAM) had an amazing thing happen today. While your skinny ass was out at ungodly hours in the morning (DON’T THINK I DIDN’T HEAR YOU RUN OUT OF THIS PLACE, AND THAT IS ANOTHER CONVERSATION FOR ANOTHER TIME, BUT I HEARD YOU STEVE. I HEARD YOU!), I got a phone call from a really great high-end bistro uptown. So….that is where I am. Cooking my heart out. Makin dreams come true._

_Ya, see Steve. Dreams are important. Dreams are sometimes the mind's way of telling us what we want. Sometimes, our dreams are self-predictions._

_Look, Steve. We need to talk about how loud you are when you dream._

xoxooxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxox _\- SAM_

 

 


	5. Behind the Scenes!

Leaning back in his chair, Bucky finally released the breath he had been holding. The interview was over. FitzSimmons had praised the play. Maybe the show wasn’t cursed after all? He leaned over, softly nudging Peppers shoulder, her strictly business smile fading into something a little more real. Something with actual emotion behind it.

“We did it, James. Successful afternoon.” Pepper squeezed his knee, pushing herself out of her seat. Bucky watched her walk over to FitzSimmons extending her hand more than happy to let her play the politics. Pepper was thanking FItzSimmons for the opportunity. He'd better join her.

“Oh Pepper.” FitzSimmons glanced at Bucky as lumbered his way by Pepper. “We’ve wanted to have you on the show for a while now. You’re last production of Death of a Salesman just really solidified the idea. We knew we had to have you after that.” The attention turned to Bucky. “And you James, your portrayal of Biff was exemplary. We keep waiting to see your name attached to Broadway. Anytime soon?”

“Oh no!” Bucky faked a laugh, having been put on the spot. “Acting is a love of my life, but I have many loves. I couldn’t leave my students. I love being a professor, even if it is just a few classes. Plus, Pep here is great. We’ve been through so much together, I don’t think I could ever leave her.”

It was true. Pepper had been there when Bucky’s accident had happened. He would spend the rest of his life trying to repay her for how she had helped him. Her and Tony both.

He remembers seeing the headlights coming towards him, remembers thinking he didn’t have enough time to get out of the way. Bucky remembers, at the moment, thinking about his sister. Everything else is still foggy. He can vaguely recall lying on the ground and screaming. He remembers explicitly Pepper sitting in his hospital room. Absentmindedly, Bucky starts rubbing the outside of his left arm.

Sensing his change in mood, Pepper pushed her bag up her shoulder. “Well. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome. What do you say, James? Time for us to start making our way back?” Pepper wrapped her arm through Bucky's, pulling him towards the exit, FitzSimmons following them to the door.

“Pepper, maybe we can arrange to have you on the show for the next couple productions?" FitSimmons said. "Give me the dirt. What’s after Little Shop?”

Pepper gave her best business smile. “I have a few ideas. Nothing solid yet. Trying to work out some technicalities. However, I think I should tell my cast before the press, don’t you think?”

FitzSimmons escorted them down the elevator, to the lobby exit. Bucky tuned most of the conversation out, letting Pepper answer and not answer whatever FitzSimmons was throwing at her. Apparently, they were going to write a blog post after the play aired, and they needed quotes. The two finally made it out the door away from FitzSimmons. Bucky was opening the umbrella when he felt the soft vibrations of his phone again. He pulled it out, already knowing it was from Steve.

"Dude," the text read, "you was great on the radio. On overnight sensation. Who’d believe it ; )’  
.  
“Barnes! Is that you! Hey Barnes! I see you, man!” Bucky looked up, seeing Sam jogging towards them, shielding himself from the rain with a stack of papers. “I thought that was you! Whats up, man? Hello Miss Potts. Didn’t expect to see you out here. Always a pleasure.”

“Mr. Wilson," Pepper laughed, "the pleasure is always mine when you are involved. I see you already know James?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sams' face fell. “Miss Potts, if you don’t mind, can I steal Bucky from you? What do ya say, man? Can I treat you to lunch?”

Pepper looked delighted. Turning to Bucky, “James?”

“Sure thing Pep. I’ll just catch the train home or something. No big deal.” Waving his phone in her face. “I know Tony's probably sent you fifty texts by now.” She laughed, pulling Bucky into a hug, her own umbrella protecting her from the rain.

“You two have fun! Mr. Wilson, I look forward to seeing you at the VA again soon. James. Behave yourself.” The men, in silence, watched her walk away.

“Hey man. You should answer that. Don’t leave Steve hanging, that's not cool.” Sam put on a jacket, throwing the hood over his head.

“Huh?” Oh. His phone. “Right. That's what I was doing before you showed up. He’s going to flip out when I tell him I ran into you.”

Rereading Steve’s joke, Bucky typed out ‘Don’t it show ya never know! And after a second thought added :) and hit send.   
Bucky was adding that he'd run into Sam when Sam clears his throat.

“Yeah. About that.” Sam was rubbing the back of his neck again, clearly uncomfortable. “Can you maybe not tell him that part? I want to tell him myself. I don't know what I'm going to say yet.”

“Oh. Okay. Um.” Bucky looked at his screen. He had already typed out ‘Ran into Sam. We’re gonna grab some food. How crazy is that??’ He deleted the text, not comfortable withholding details from Steve. Especially details involving himself and Steve’s best friend. He remembered Steve telling him that soup was Sam’s current specialty, so he quickly typed in ‘You won’t believe who I just ran into. I’m gonna grab some soup out here with a friend.   
I’ll pick you up tomorrow if the roads are dry. :) :)." Maybe Steve would catch onto the soup hint. The reply came almost instantly.

"Okay. I’m just going to do some revisions tonight. Nothing huge. See you soon jerk."

* * *

 

Bucky and Sam sat at the back of a small eatery. Still feeling bad about not telling Steve the entire truth, Bucky did actually order a bowl of soup.

Sam, opposite him, sat staring at his plate.

“Dude. If you don’t mind, give me a few seconds to figure out how to say this. Okay? I just.” Bucky watched Sam rub his neck. Must be a nervous tick. “I just want to make sure I say the right things.”

Bucky understood the need to arrange your words. He often wrote his lectures down, word for word, and made several prompt cards for any questions that could arise from his students. Plus there was the whole practice of memorizing his lines for shows. Bucky slurps his soup, waiting for Sam to figure out what he was going to say. He's eaten half his bowl before Sam finally exhales, relaxing into his seat.

“Okay man. I know it's only been a little over a month. But the thing is, none of us ever do things the traditional way. Steve and me. Or even Riley. And I worry ya know? Steve’s my friend. We’ve been through a lot together.” Sam took a bite of his sandwich, wiping his face with the back of his hand, continuing. Bucky’s spoon was mid-air, shoulders bent over his bowl, listening to every word Sam said. “For the longest time, all we had was each other. Ya know? And then we found Riley. And then there were three of us. But things have seemed kind of intense between the two of you, so I figure it's safe to assume this is for real.”

Bucky, not knowing if Sam was finished, simply sat his spoon down.

“And that's just so like him. Steve. Ya know? Constantly throwing everything he has into whatever he’s doing. And I get it. Dudes got a lot going against him, so I get it. But here's the thing man. I feel like you’re just as in this as he is. At least I hope you are. You two. You just seem to be able to read each other. And I need to know.” Sam grabbed a couple of fries from his plate. His eyes never left Bucky's face as he raised an eyebrow. “Well? There's four of us now? Right?”

Bucky smiled, remembering how Steve’s lip had felt. Maybe he should be offended that Sam was asking this. But wouldn't Bucky do the same for any of his family? Bucky began to twist his napkin into spirals, a warmness filling his body. “I’ve never been more into anything in my life,” Bucky answered. It sounded dramatic, but it was true. Steve was a vital part of his life now. From the moment Bucky had seen him running after Pepper in the auditorium, he at least knew he wanted to know who that person was. The moment Steve had called Bucky an angel though, that was the moment he knew he really wanted to get to know him. “Yes. I am very in this.” Bucky pushed his bowl away. “Sam. I don’t do things just to do them. I, I mean. Sometimes you just know? Ya know? I just know. It seems fast. No," Bucky corrected, "it is fast. But,” he let the napkin fall from his hands, turning to look Sam in the eyes, “I just know.”

Sam nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“That's how it was with Riley. Met him when I first started going to the VA. I walked into a meeting one day, sat down in the back row. And here comes Riley. Sat down right next to me. The big lug.” Sam leaned across the table, spooning some of Bucky's soup out of Bucky's bowl to taste. "That needs salt. Anyway. Riley looked me right in the face. Said ‘Why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella? He had the stupidest grin on his face. And that was it. Knew I was a goner.”

Bucky leaned across the table. “Yeah. Steve told me I was an angel. The entire thing was ridiculous. I had to pry him out of Angie's arms, and he had brought these muffins. All I could do was stand there. Didn’t even have the courage to talk to him after that. Not at first, anyway. And everything he said was so full of snark.” Leaning back, Bucky runs his hand through his hair, smiling at the ceiling. “I’m not going to do anything to ruin this. I just, I feel like everything is slotting into place. Ya know? I’m just really happy with how things are going.”

Sam nodded. The tension from earlier gone. The two sat in companionable silence as they finished their food. An understanding having been reached.

“Good. Okay. Good. I feel better. I just needed to know that someone was going to have his back when I’m gone. Now, let's talk about this morning.”

“Huh?”

“Man. I was making coffee. Don’t even act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I could hear everything!”

Bucky blushed. Sam hooted. The clouds finally stopped pouring rain.


	6. Act 1.4- Suddenly Seymour

Steve rolled over in his bed, his hand colliding with something substantial, then a blissful silence enraptured the room. Groaning, Steve turned deeper into the covers, burying both his face and the spinning room back into his pillow. Steve's throat was burning, and without touching them, Steve knew his lymph nodes were swollen enough to make moving his neck a challenge. This was all but confirmed when Steve gasped a deep breath, his lungs loudly rattling. Steve reached under his pillow, achy fingers searching for his phone. Finding it, Steve half-heartedly dragged his words in the familiar pattern before sending the message and abandoning the phone in the sea of blankets. There was a haze radiating from his pillow, enticing Steve to join it. And as much as he knew this was some fever-induced vision, the idea of exploring a mist-like cloud was enticing to Steve, who gladly let himself be overtaken with sleep hoping to emerge a new man.

Steve was dreaming of smiling men with brown hair and leather jackets when a dip in his bed woke him. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, apparently having received Steves text. "That time of year already?" Sam asked, using his hands in place of his words.

Steve struggled out from the blanket, replying in the same manner. "Sinus infection. Possible ear infection. Can’t hear well. Most likely bronchitis. Probably exacerbated." Steve told him, then added, sternly, "Don’t call the Doctor."

Sam nodded, digging around in Steve's pill box, not paying attention, freeing bottle after bottle. After what seemed like hours to Steve but was more likely just seconds, Sam rescued a discuss and two small oblong shaped devices from Steve's box. Instantly, Steve shook his head, sweat-matted hair flinging in his sight.

"No point." Steve signed, gesturing to his ears. "I can feel the swelling."

Sam nodded a quick dip of his chin, rising from the bed and placing the aides next to the army of bottles on Steves nightstand. If Steve hadn't known Sam as well as he did, he would have thought Sam was judging him. Though, Steve knew better than to be offended by the practiced exasperated look on Sams' face. Through clogged ears, Steve could just understand what Sam was saying. And none of it was good.

"Steve." Sam thumbed his phone, his voice surfacing through roaring waves. "I’m calling the Doctor."

Steve made a motion to argue, but Sam raised his brow, efficiently squelching any arguments Steve had been going to give. Instead, Steve lay back down, in what he was sure was a display of perfect gratitude, letting the worn material of his quilt carry him back to another restless sleep. Steve was dreaming of clouds again when he felt the sharp tug on his wrist, jolting him to consciousness.

Riley released Steves wrist, letting it fall to the bed with a soft, stunned thump. He removed the stethoscope from Steve's chest. Riley purposely moved his hands to Steve line of sight. Steve huffed, preparing himself for what was to come.

"Heard you didn’t want to call me?" Riley said, his signing not as graceful as Sams. "Well tough shit, asshole." Steve, despite himself, smiled, flicking a bird at Riley to compensate for his current lack of voice.

"Didn’t want to mess up the resident's schedule." Steve rasped. The resulting pressure that pushed against his chest was worth the eye roll from Riley. "I was thinking of your future, dear," Steve added, falling comfortably into their routine. Riley threw his head back, laughing, same as always.

Steve did as he was told, taking heavy, pained breaths while Riley listened to his chest. Steve focused on the crisp white stitching on Riley's scrubs, the VA logo as odd as ever among the dark colors of Steves room. "Okay, dickhead." Riley sighed, laying his stethoscope around his neck, "Open up." Not everyone could say they received bedside throat swabbing, and for this and Rileys sarcasm laced methods of worry, Steve would forever be grateful. "I brought Prednisone," Riley continued. "One shot in the ass for good measure. I'll let you swallow the rest because I'm nice like that." Riley, ever the gentlemen, winked. "In pill form I mean. For you to swallow in pill form."

If he could have, Steve would have told him to swallow it himself. Instead, Steve gave him another bird before rolling over, exposing his bare ass for the world to see. The shot was brief and, as always, Riley didn't mock him during this. It was a couple of minutes before Steve peaked over the top of the sheet, finding Riley standing patiently among Steves piles of somewhat questionable laundry, his arms across his chest. If anything, Riley looked as if he was going to war, and that look told Steve everything he needed to know. Steve let his head fall back to his pillow, rolling his eyes as he extended his hand for Riley to take.

"I know you hate it," Riley said, his voice sounding far away. "but I don’t want you to get as dehydrated as you did last time." Steve yawned, his breath slightly stale. No point in watching the needle go in. He'd seen it a million times already anyway. Riley hung the bag from the hook they had camouflaged on the wall, hidden under a frankly disconcerting amount of sweaters. "Okay then." Riley stepped away from the bed, speaking his words while he stumbled through his signing. "You have an awful sinus infection, which is why you can’t hear out of your ears. The sound will slowly start coming back as the infection goes down. Which you already knew. Chest sounds like bronchitis. Which you also already knew. I’m going to go drop this sample off at work to rule out strep." Riley shoved the tube in his pocket, looking satisfied with his assessment. "But I’m pretty sure the throat pain is just the swollen lymph from the infection." Steve nodded. Riley was right; Steve did know most of that.

Steve mouthed the words thank you, then scooted himself into a better sitting position against his headboard, reaching for his laptop. At least he could get some design commissions done. Maybe finish the Little Shop promotion stuff? Steve noticed Riley hesitating, awkwardly this time, by his bed. Steve raised his eyebrows at him, motioning for him to continue.

"Are we going to have to talk about how you stopped wearing your hearing aids once you started working at the theater?" Riley asked, quickly stumbling through the motions. "You know your hearing can get worse if you don’t wear them? Right? That is something you do know?"

"Stop lecturing me," Steve replied, the IV making it hard to move his hands. "Yes. I know." Steve should have known better. Riley never let him get away with anything for too long and he always, always, lectured with purpose.

"You’ll be pissed at yourself if you let it get so out of control you're still hiding this from him when you're a hundred." Riley retorted, full force. "For some reason, I don’t think he’s going to care that you're wearing hearing aids. You should tell him. You want that to work? You gotta be honest with him. For the relationship." Riley finished, smug.

Steve rubbed the space between his eyes, frustrated with himself and the entire situation. It was annoying knowing all these people who were regularly right, who knew they were regularly right. Honestly, Steve just wanted to sleep, but once Riley got in this mood, it was near impossible to get him out. Steve shifted the topic to the one thing he knew Riley would always talk about. "Did you get it?" Riley's face flushed bright red, a grin wrinkling his cheek. Steve almost yanked his IV out in his excitement. "Let me see it!"

"Steve, you’re sick," Riley said, completely abandoning his attempts to sign. "It's not the right time. Plus Sam's in the other room!" Despite this, Riley pulled a small velvet box from his work bag, carefully handing it to Steve. Gently, Steve opened it, smiling at the simple rose gold band inside.

* * *

 

Armed with his laptop, Steve caught himself staring at his mirrored reflection in the screen. He needed a shower. His hair was decidedly angry, standing a good couple inches in the air. His nose was tinted red from the sickness, but even more concerning were the sleepless nights hanging under Steve's eyes. Steve had been forced to his bed for two days, and all Steve wanted was to take a freaking shower. Steve was working on Little Shop promotions. Or at least trying to. He wasn’t actually getting much done in the process, sometimes catching his reflection watching him work. And Steve could definitely smell the sick leaking out of him now. Riley had taken the IV out earlier in the day, no longer worried about the risk of dehydration. And all the medications Steve had been taking had slowly returned his voice back to him, albeit a much shakier voice. But still. A shower would be nice.

It had been a weird couple of days, in between his illness and plotting with Riley, Steve was on edge and not able to sleep. Honestly? Probably the fucking prednisone. Or maybe it was the little seed Riley had planted in his head. And Bucky's face staring at him from the poster he was trying to design definitely wasn't helping Steves conscience.

The past few days had been non-stop texting, and Bucky had let a few real gems slide in those messages. Last night Bucky had told Steve he was doing research for one of his classes on the emotional impact of the animated film. This had spiraled into a lengthy discussion on which was their favorite cartoon. They ended up watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks together on Youtube via webcam. Honestly? One of the best dates Steve had been on. And they weren't even in the same room.

Things with Bucky were uncomplicated. They were easy. They liked each other. This was going somewhere. Maybe somewhere for an extended period of time. No, definitely somewhere for an extended period of time. Possibly forever. It's time to suck it up. Bucky was kind. And kind of surprising. And absorbing. And Steve really wanted this to work. Decision made, Steve reached for his phone. Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of lungs full of air. Then, without a second thought, dialed the most recent number listed in his call log.

Resting his head against the bedboard, Steve practiced another deep breath. The line kept ringing through each practiced breath, each breath deeper and ring louder than the last until the sound of Bucky's voice broke his rhythm.

“Steve?”

“Hey, Buck.” Steve laughed, riding that euphoric high of total calm and maybe too much oxygen. "I like you. And you like me. RIght?" The extended pause from the other end of the line forced Steve to finally open his eyes, wondering if maybe the call had dropped. "Buck?"

“Steve, hold on one second.” There was a loud rustling on the other end, then Bucky's voice far away, projecting. “Okay, class. This is where we are going to stop for the day. By next class, I want you all to have watched and reflected on five similar movies. Use these films as context. You need to be able to connect the bones of the plot, no matter the genre. Piece the bones together to form a skeleton. Email all submissions to me the day before next lecture. Class dismissed.” There was more rustling, and then Bucky's voice was next to him again. “Stevie? You're apparently feeling better.” Bucky sounded hopeful. It made Steve’s heart flutter. He knew if he looked at the fool in the mirror a goofy smile would be adorning his probably flushed face.

“Bucky, you probably shouldn't answer your phone during your lectures.”

“It's okay." Bucky rushed over his words, laughing nervously. "We were done in fifteen minutes anyway…”  
They listened to each other breathe before both trying to speak at once.

“Are you hungry?”  
“Want to come over?”  
“Wait, what?”  
“No, you what?”  
“Okay, compromise." Bucky laughed. "How about I bring food on my way over? I'll be there in an hour."

* * *

 

Bucky and Steve were sitting on Steve’s bed, sharing a to-go container of Lo Mein. Steve hadn’t realized how hungry he actually was. Instead, Steve was pretending not to notice Bucky push all the chicken to his side, still too tired to really fight him on the gesture.

“So get this, right?" Bucky says, effortlessly shoveling noodles into his mouth. "We’re standing on the stage, and Angie is just belting her heart out. Best she’s sounded yet! And out of nowhere, Brock starts laughing at her.” Steve’s enraptured, listening to Bucky relay the story clearly not aware of the noodles he's flinging with his chopsticks. Steve can’t take his eyes off him. Bucky is so animated when he's telling a story, unknowingly using every part of his body to engage. It's a perfect moment, flying noodles and all. “So Brocks just laughing. And finally, Angie had had enough, so she was like ‘hey bud, what's so gosh dang funny!’” and this guy just starts laughing even more! And Steve," Bucky looks serious, and its all Steve can do not to laugh. "I swear, I thought Pepper was going to destroy him," Bucky whispers, reverently, clearly reliving the memory. "Her ears were red and everything."

Steve waits for Bucky to continue, having paused for what he's suspicious is dramatic effect. Finally, Bucky sighs, dropping his head. "Brock never did say what was so funny. He just kind of left practice. Walking out the door laughing like some maniacal Santa Clause. So we started the song over.” Bucky pulled his phone from his pocket. “I recorded it. She just sounded so..., so. You’ve just got to hear it.” Bucky messed around on the screen, then Angie and Bucky's voice filled the room. Suddenly Seymour being declared. The emotion palpable from the speaker, Steve listened to the words.

Bucky's voice was first. And then Angie's followed both sounds floating beautifully out of the small speaker. Bucky and Angie were harmonizing now. Bucky was heard first, singing his hopes. Then Angie’s voice followed, declaring her fears through a near-perfect pitch. Maybe. Steve didn't actually know what perfect pitch sounded like. Possibly Angie singing.

_“Please understand that_   
_it’s still strange and frightenin'_   
_For losers like I've been_   
_It's so hard to say…”_

Their entire performance was giving him chills. Steve's chest felt funny. Most likely from bronchitis. Or indigestion. But it could have also been the fact that Steve was beginning to believe in the easiness between him and Bucky. Riley was right, and Bucky deserved his honesty. Steve took the courage the song was giving him, and he ran with it. “Hey, Buck.” Steve reached out, placing his hand on the side of Bucky's face, day old stubble rubbing rough beneath his fingers. Steve had Bucky's full attention now, Bucky's hands had somehow found their way over Steves. “Bucky. I’m sick.”

“I know Steve. You had bronchitis. And a sinus infection. You're better now, though.”

“No." Steve was so close to Bucky's face now, the words softly spilling out of him. "I mean I’m sick. This happens a lot. You know about my asthma, but I also have chronic bronchitis because of it. I’m more susceptible to pneumonia because of that. I also have a heart problem that I've had a few surgeries for. Probably will have to have more the older I get. And," Steve was rushing now, "my spine is almost entirely metal because I had such horrible scoliosis as a kid that was the only way they could correct it. And, and if you ever thought I was ignoring you, I wasn’t. I promise. It’s just that..” Steve ran his hands over his face, frustrated. Steve pulled the hearing aids from his pocket, thumbing them in his palm. “You see? I'm supposed to wear these. Because I’m eighty percent deaf in my right ear. But I don’t ever wear them because I always feel like people stare." Steve finished, moving to give Bucky some space. "So, this is your out." Steve shrugged. "I’m giving you an out. Because I get it.”

Bucky sat in silence, much to Steve's dismay. Maybe he'd misread the situation? Steve had been positive that Bucky wouldn't care, but maybe he had misread the situation?

“Put those in,” Bucky said, finally, nodding towards the aids in Steve's hand. “Steve- what's your middle name?"

"Grant," Steve answered, confused. "Why?"

"Steven Grant Rogers, you giant, conceited, bafoon, put those in.”

“I'm not a bafoon." Steve answered, stunned, placing the molds firmly in his ears.

“Are they on?”

“Yes, Bucky." Steve snapped, annoyed. "They are on.”

“Good. Because I want to make sure you hear me when I say this.” Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve's body, ensuring that the only place he could look was his face. More irritated than before, Steve crossed his arms, purposefully glaring at Bucky's shoulder. Bucky sighed, putting both his hands on the side of Steve's face, gently turning his glare right on him. “Steve. Steve, I don’t care that you got some health problems. Okay? We can deal with that as it comes. I care about you. As a person. I’m with you to the end of the line, pal. You can’t get rid of me now.”

Against his will, Steve's eyes started to tear up. Riley would probably make fun of him crying, but he didn't care. "So...you’re not going to leave?” Steve asked, relaxing into Bucky's arms.

“You’re stuck with me, punk.” Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders, fully encasing him in his embrace. “These have been the best couple months of my life thus far. I intend to keep it that way. But I need to tell you something. And I'm worried you might freak out."

Steve pulled away from the embrace, still wrapped in Bucky's legs, waiting for Bucky to find the words he needed. Bucky puffed his chest out, closing his eyes. Whatever courage Steve had had to find earlier today, Bucky was apparently searching for it now.

“So... now would be a good time to tell you I got ran over a couple years ago and that it crushed all the bones in my left arm and then it got infected and I was going to lose the arm but Tony had a new tech in his medical research department so they removed all the bones from my arm and replaced everything with a type of highly experimental artificial bone that connects to my nerves and stuff so basically my left arm is metal but not really?”

Steve sat stunned, trying to register what Bucky was saying. Talk about whiplash. Steve had been so concerned about Bucky rejecting him that...wait, what? How could something so horrible happen to someone who exuded light? It didn't seem right.

“It was a hit and run." Bucky continued, apparently anxious. "Arm got crushed. Pepper found me in the parking lot and stayed with me the entire time. They repaired my arm at the hospital, but it got infected, so they were going to cut it off. But Stark stepped in, and now I am forever in their debt.”  
Bucky pulled the bottom of his shirt over his head, depositing the clothing on the floor, turning the inside of his left arm towards Steve. There, prominently displayed on Bucky's arm was a long scar. The same scar Steve had briefly glimpsed on the day they first met. The scar extended all the way to the tip of Bucky's index finger, a straight line up his entire arm wrapping at his shoulder, stopping at the top of his spine. “So, basically,” Bucky used his right hand to point, “it was my bones that were infected." He ran his fingers up his arm, stopping at his shoulder, pointing to the back of his neck, “here they inserted an electrical circuit that connects to my brain stem. That makes the implants they put in have the ability to interact with my brain. From what I understand, as long as the fake bones are connected and touching, and the chip doesn’t stop working, it essentially works the same as normal. I just have to go in and get it checked every couple months. So, everything in there is all me but with like, highly conductive Stark bone implants. I’m one of the first ever real cyborgs. So, you have a metal spine, and I have a highly experimental metal arm. We can be cyborgs together.”

Steve sat in disbelief of the person in front of him. How could someone who's been through so much be so open to the world? The scarring under Steve's finger was hard, bright red, and suddenly, all Steve could think to do was kiss it. “I’m so glad you’re okay," Steve whispered, still kissing Bucky's scar. "I’m so happy we found each other.” Climbing into Buckys lap, Steve pushed Bucky down onto the bed. “Now, lay down, because you have your shirt off and you're in my bed.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Steve and Bucky were sound asleep, arms wrapped around each other. Covers pulled almost over their heads, hair thoroughly bedded. The sun was streaming through the window, placing perfect beams of warmth around the room. The whispering coming from outside Steves door was from two overly pleased roommates. One bouncing, the other trying to make the other one shut up. The soft slap of roommates exchanging high-fives was the only sound in the house.  

 


	7. Act 2.1- Dentist

Steve stood behind the curtain, whispering along to the scene, waiting for his cue. Brock, mid-stage, sings his introduction scene. Steve needs to lower the set enhancements at just the right moment to make this a turning point in the play. Honestly, he's surprised they're trusting him with this. Natasha, Helen, and Darcy are standing off to the side. All three in various states of over exaggerated mock annoyance. Steve didn't even need to see Helen to know her hands were on her hips. “The last thing Seymour needs is more of your kind!” one of the girls, Steve's not sure which, cries out.

“My kind!" Brock replied. "Occupational hazard, baby! My job is causing people pain!” Brock walked to the front of the stage, bending his knees, throwing his hands up in what could only be interpreted as a warning gesture. The music queued on, Brock began singing, and Steve held tightly onto the ropes.

_“When I was young and just a bad little kid,_  
_My momma noticed funny things I did._  
_She said my boy, I think, someday_  
_You'll find a way_  
_To make your natural. Tendencies. Pay…_ ”

Brock spun around, flinging his tearaway jacket so hard it slapped loudly against the stage, revealing the pristine dentist costume underneath. That was Steve’s cue. He pulled the rope, hundreds of different cut out mouths, all in various forms of expression, tumbling from the ceiling. Scattered among them hung dental tools. Steve had sprayed them all with glue and rolled them in silver glitter. With the light reflecting off them, and on the black backdrop, the entire scene looked like something out of a horror disco. The music stopped. Brock lifted his arms to the ceiling, now crowded with mouths and dental supplies. Reverently, Brock pointed to the objects. No longer singing, Brock staged whispered his next line. “I have a talent for causing things pain!”  
  
Maybe it was all the glitter, or perhaps it was the set. But the way Brock played into his role, with such gusto and ease, unnerved Steve.

* * *

 

Steve was adding cosmetic effects to Audrey 2 backstage. Now that Tony had finished the mechanics of the alien plant, the entire thing was brilliant. The prop literally grew as the play progressed, and even had a hiding chamber nestled in the giant terracotta planter pot it was sitting in that was big enough for at least 4 people to sit uncomfortably. Steve was airbrushing metallic accents on the plant's leaves, wholly immersed in it the repetitive actions of shading, when everyone started coming backstage. Airbrushing was one of Steve's favorite methods. That, and graffiti. There was something so soothing about the motions. The way the colors took life the more, you added. Steve was adding bits of bronze to the leaves when someone knocked his shoulder, catching Steve so off guard that he lost his balance, stumbling forward into the giant prop.

“Whoa there big guy.” Brock leaned over, a too firm hand grabbing Steves shoulder to steady him. Brocks' hand lingered just a second too long for Steve's comfort and Steve knew that soon enough there would be bright purple imprints on his shoulder from it.

"Thanks," Steve said, rubbing his shoulder, turning to look at the airbrush kit all over the floor now. " He could sense Brock's eyes on him still, and he was becoming extremely uncomfortable with the entire situation. "Didn't see you there," Steve said, leaning over to pick up the supplies. The way Brock was looking at him made Steve feel exposed. Steve attempted a laugh, but it fell short, coming out slightly raspy from lingering bronchitis.

Brock nodded, then bent down to help Steve pick up the mess, carefully looking at the base where the animatronic connected to the prop while he talked. “This looks great. Gotta be sure to tell Tony he did a bang-up job." Brock said. "Real good work. The leaves need a little more work though.”

Steve had been working on those leaves for the past hour. They were obviously nowhere near done. Steve still had to sew the glow in the dark thread through the veins of the leaves, and he couldn't do that until he was done painting them. Steve was just about to let Brock know precisely what he thought of his advice when the backstage door opened, revealing Bucky and, each carrying a massive pile of to-go bags in their arms.

“Yeah Stevie." Brock continued, no longer looking at Steve but at Bucky as he pushed from the floor, wiping his hands. "I think those leaves need a lot more work.”

"Looks like he was working on it," Tony said, "so I don't think Steve needs your input on this one, Brock. Unless you also have an MFA?"

Brock glared at Tony. Then at Bucky who was staring straight at Steve. "You okay?" Bucky asked, watching the way Steve absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder.

"Ah, look at that." Brock laughed. "Prince charming coming to rescue the princess?"

“He doesn’t need me to defend him." Bucky shrugged. "He can do that himself. But you’re stupid to think I don’t got his back..” Bucky cracked his knuckles, shoulders squaring.

“Fuck you, man. Tell ya what Stevie," Brock laughed. "When you get tired of this guy, come find me. I’ll show you what a real man feels like." Makes sense you’d go for someone like him. Look at how small he is. I bet he makes you feel like such a man! Don’t he, Bucko.” Brock pushed Bucky's shoulder. “Can he even hear you? Or is that what you like about him. Can’t hear you crying while you fuck him.”

Steve sat the paint down, not entirely sure what was going on. Steve knew a few things about bullies. That they liked to try to hit your soft spots. That they were excellent at manipulating situations. And Steve? Well, Steve never claimed to be perfect because all his spots were being it now. Steve's heart was practically clawing from his neck he was so mad.

“What’s your problem, man?" Busky asked, balling his fist up. "You still pissed I got your part, Brock? Tryna use Steve over me to make yourself feel big. Do you feel big now?” Bucky was clenching and unclenching his fist. Things were getting out of hand.

“Can he even have sex?" Brock mocked him, tilting his head to inspect Steve's small frame. "Can he make it through it without having to use his inhaler he’s always huffing on? You sure that's even medicine in there? I bet you got yourself a huffer. You got you a winner here, pal.”

"Stop it," Steve said, voice low, dangerous. "Brock? Yes. I may be small. And I have trouble breathing. And hearing. And countless other things. But I’m not defined by my disabilities! I am a person, goddammit! I’m not as physically strong as you. But don’t you dare for a minute think I’m not capable of myself. I’m my biggest fan, Brock!” Steve felt his face heating, felt his lungs starting to tighten. Despite himself, Steve continued. “I’ve felt things and dealt with things you can’t even imagine! Hell, me even getting out of bed makes me stronger than you. And if I don’t get out of bed? I’m still fucking stronger than you! I’m stronger than you here!” Steve pointed to his head. “I’m stronger than you here.” Steve pointed to his heart. “And I’m stronger than you here!” Steve grabbed his dick. Steve continued, too fired up to stop. “And guess what Brock. I can hear you just fine. Anything else you got to say?” Steve threw his arms in the air, “because I can do this all day!”

From behind the curtain came thunderous applause. The curtain began to lift, revealing the rest of the cast and crew on the stage. Pepper was standing off to the side, her hand on her waist, clipboard in her hand. She rose her eyebrow at Tony who just shrugged in response, still holding all the to-go bags. Kate was on Clint's back, whistling around her fingers, Natasha standing next to him, hands wrapped around her waist. Clint had his hands cupped around his mouth. “Yeah, Brock! We can hear you just fine!”

Darcy and Angie were jumping next to Erik, who looked uncomfortable with the situation. Bruce was slightly green. He and Helen were politely clapping. Peggy, next to Angie, seemed pleased. She caught Steve’s eye, throwing him a wink.

“You son of a bitch!" Brock rushed forward, grabbing Steve by the shoulders, beginning to shake him. "You did that on purpose! You! Did! That! On! Purpose!!”

Bucky tried to step between them, grabbing Brock's hands and pushing them off Steve. He finally got Steve free from Brock. Steve wheezing, holding his throat, fell to his knees. Bucky panicked, terror in his voice. "Inhaler! Where's your inhaler?" Steve tapped his pocket. Bucky instantly grabbed it, shook it, and helped Steve bring it to his mouth. The medicine exploding over his airways, small relief flooding Steves senses.

Brock took a step forward, looking panicked, then looked at the rest of the people on the stage. Pointing at both Steve and Bucky, trying to speak but no words coming out. Then his demeanor changed. His face settled, his eyes cleared. “Guess you’re right, kid.” Brock turned to Pepper. “I’m done.”

Pepper was shouting. There was a lot of noise that Steve couldn't figure out where was coming from. Tony was kneeling over him now, yelling for Helen to come help.

Steve grabbed Bucky's collar, pulling his face close to his. "No ambulance. Just. Water."

Bucky nodded, pulling Steve between his legs. Propping his back on his chest. "Can someone get him some fucking water? Jesus! Bruce, hang up the damn phone! He's fine. He just needs water! Where is the fucking water!"  
  
Natasha handed Bucky a bottle of water, which he quickly turned to Steve. Slowly, Steve drank it down. He was fine. He had been expecting Brock to punch him. Steve hadn’t been prepared to have the literal air shaken out of him. A punch would've been easier.

“I’m fine.” Steve croaked, voice raw, head light. "I'm good."

“Oh, thank God!” Bucky held him tighter, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder.

* * *

 

The office door snapped shut. Bucky sat on one couch. Steve sat on the other. Pepper behind her desk. Steve was reminded of all the times he had been in the principal's office. This felt very similar.

“Should we call the police?” Pepper removed the clip from her hair. "I've never seen anything like that. He just quit. Steve? Steven are you okay now?"

"I’m sorry Pepper." Bucky shakes his head, "This is my fault. I lost my temper. I tried. I really did.” Bucky dragged his fingers through his hair, voice raw. "I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I lost my fucking temper and Steve was the one who suffered for it. And now we're a man down.”

Steve jumped from his couch, moving to Bucky's side. “This isn’t your fault. The guy was out of line." Steve said. "If anything, I lost my temper.” Steve turned to Pepper. “I’m really sorry. I understand if you don’t want to commission me for future shows. Don’t call the police. I don’t think anything will come of it anyway and it will be bad publicity for the show. Stuff like this actually happens to me all the time.”

Pepper stared, dumbfounded, before finding her voice. “The both of you are idiots. I’m calling the police.” Bucky quirked his lips, the sniffling calming down. Steve agreed. “Steve, you are part of this family now. And family takes care of family. And of course, you’re designing our next production! Idiots. The both of you. Don’t call the police, he says.” Pepper scoffed, opening her desk drawer, throwing her phone into it. “Okay. You want business as usual?" Pepper asked. "Okay then. Business as usual. We have a week and a half until production. Do you think we can make it until then? Is the understudy ready?”

  
Steve remained quiet. This wasn’t his call. The play belonged to everyone. And Bucky had been working really hard. Steve had promised he wasn’t going to let anything doom this play and here he was brawling in the auditorium. Steve rubbed Bucky's leg. Trying to calm his own nerves. “Hey, Buck," Steve said. "It’s time to be Harrison Ford. You remember that? Gotta be Han Solo and Seymour at the same time.”

“Your crush on Harrison Ford. I remember.” He nodded. “President James Marshall.” Bucky reached to move Steve's hair, brushing it softly from his face. “Not Spencer though. Never be Spencer.” Steve nodded, placing his hand on Buckys. “Jesus, Steve! You got attacked, and you’re the one comforting me? That's fucked up. You know that?”

Steve saw his chance and took it. No way was he letting this play crash because of him. He turned to Pepper, Bucky's hand falling to his lap. “Honestly. I’m okay. I was expecting a punch, and when he grabbed my shoulders, it caught me off guard. Normally, the asthma’s not that severe but,” Steve shrugged, “bronchitis.”

“Who's the understudy again?” Bucky was facing Steve, intimate, grounding the both of them at the moment. It had been a weird day. Everything started off so normal. And then got weird. And then got loud. And now, things seemed to be calming down?

Pepper was flipping through her binder. “New kid. Goes by the name of Jack. Has promise. Not sure he’s ready though. He can’t seem to just let go. Looks like this is his shot to prove himself.” The binder snapped shut. Pepper leaned back in her chair again, rubbing her temples, showing a rare moment of distress. Pepper didn't say anything for several minutes before shoving her chair back and heading for her office door. "Damage control.”

* * *

 

The cast and crew were sitting in the front two rows, the understudies in the third. Brock still not present. Pepper standing near the front of the stage.

“Alright crew!" Pepper yelled, all business. "Jack? Yes, there you are. Congratulations. You are obviously our Dentist now. Everyone else, get with your understudies. Make sure you both are in sync. Hot tea before bed, every night. Times get tense the closer we get to lift off, as we saw today. But are we going to let that discourage us?” She didn’t give anyone the chance to answer. “No! We absolutely are not. Two matters of business before we call it quits for the day.” Steve had never seen this Pepper. This Pepper commanded the floor. This Pepper held all the attention on her. This Pepper left no room for negotiation. This Pepper was fierce.

“First. The group relaxation retreat before the production. I’ve booked a couple cabins about a day's drive from here. There will be lakes. There will be BBQ pits. There will be fresh air! Pine trees!” Pepper flipped a page on her clipboard, eyeing the paper before she continued. “Today is Thursday. That is this Thursday to next Thursday plus the Friday, Saturday, Sunday, in between the following Monday. That Monday is Critic and Family night. Kiss of Theater will be in attendance, and we all know how influential they are in the theater community.” She scanned the room, making eye contact with each person. If Peppers' eyes lingered on Jack, no one said anything. Someone audibly gulped. Probably Jack.

“That is eleven days from now. If you are going to participate in the cabin retreat, we will arrive at the cabins Friday night, be staying through Sunday morning. Everyone will arrive back at the playhouse Monday morning for the final rehearsal before opening. Is this good for everyone?”

There was a chorus of “yes” and “okay” and one “yes dear.”

“I realized that is a bit closer than we normally cut it," Pepper continued, "but everything has been so compact with Little Shop that I thought we could all use the extra day. We know our stuff. I have faith in us."

Bucky was rubbing Steve's leg, pretending not to be looking at him, completely ignoring Pepper. Steve was focused, determined, now more than ever, to do well for this company.

Finally smiling, Pepper pulled a flyer off the clipboard. “Okay, everyone. Got the dates for the retreat? Are we all set on instructions for this last week and a half? And everyone will be at rehearsal as scheduled? No more exciting days like today, yes?”

The cast erupted into cheers. In the back seat, Bucky grabbed Steve's hand.

* * *

 

Steve and Bucky were sitting in the coffee shop with Riley. Riley had driven down after his rotation to meet them. Things were going well.

Bucky leaned across the table. “So this punk enacted a riot today and then scared the shit out of me.”

Things had been going well.

Riley just stared. Waiting.

“It was nothing." Steve groaned, intently staring at his coffee. "Just some douche who got out of control. We talked. I had an asthma attack. But clearly,” Steve put his fingers to his neck, searching for his pulse point, “yep. I’m still alive.”

“Steve.”

“Okay. So, it got a little physical. But look! Still breathing. Alls well.”

“Steve."

Bucky cleared his throat. “To be fair….”

“Oh good." Riley nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "There's two of you. What have we gotten ourselves into?” Riley ran his hands through his hair, causing blond spikes to stand askew. “Okay, Steve. I don’t want to know. Only because you are clearly okay. But we will be talking about this later. After I get engaged.”

“Roger.”

“Did you just…?" Riley shook his head, exasperated. "You know what. I’m letting that go as well. So, you don’t mind staying out of the house for like, I don’t know, maybe a week?”

“That’s actually perfect because the play is in like a week and a half. " Steve signed. "I’ll stay gone long enough for you to almost propose at least ten times. That way, for the days you panic and put it off, you can compensate.”

Riley nodded. “And where exactly are you going to stay?” He already knew the answer. Bucky raised his brow, taking a sip of his drink. Something sugary with extra foam. Bucky didn’t answer, still looking at Riley. Riley returned the same look, then clapped his hands together.

“So that settles it then! Okay. Let's go get your stuff. With Sam’s new job he won’t be home for at least another two hours, so we got time. Operation Mr. Wilson is officially underway.”

 


	8. Act 2.2: Skid Row

Steve was sitting next to Bucky, who was sitting in a barber chair. Hair was falling to the floor. The stylist was mumbling about facial structure. Works of art. Steve agreed. His hair shrank from his shoulders, up to his neck, then higher still, forming into a clean swoop atop. Black and white pictures had been taped to the mirror. A combination of Dean and Brando trying to appear on his head. Bucky had his eyes closed.  
  
The cut wasn’t James Dean. It wasn’t Marlon Brando. But it was good, and Steve really liked it.

* * *

 

Steve was tired. It had been a long day. He had been rolling sets on and off stage all day, helping the stagehands guide things where they needed to go and when. The practice had run late, causing the cast to leave late for the cabins. Everyone piled into their cars, forming a caravan for the long trip. It would be well into the morning before they arrived now.

Steve laid his head against the window, watching the long expanse of road unfurl before them. Peter was in the backseat, riding with him and Bucky to the camp, adjusting settings on his camera. At some point Steve fell asleep, exhausted from the exertion. He could vaguely hear Bucky and Peter chatting, glad for it.  
  
When Steve awoke the clock in the car shown brightly 2am. Peter was asleep in the back seat, small snores floating to the front.  
  
“You doing okay over there Buck?" Steve asked, only half awake. "How long have we been driving?”

“Almost four hours. It won't be much longer before we're there.” Bucky yawned.  
  
“Do you need me to drive?" Steve asked. "I can. I don’t mind.” Bucky thought it about, then signed, shaking his head no.  
  
“If you could just turn on some music?" Bucky answered. "I think if you don’t mind if you stay awake I’ll be fine.”  
  
Steve reached for his phone, searching his playlists. Eventually, the gentle melody of Skid Row began to play. Bucky nodded, humming along to the song. Steve and Bucky had established early on that this was their favorite song from the play. Needing to do something to keep himself awake, Steve cleared his throat, starting to sing along with the radio.  
  
_“Downtown, Where the guys are drips._  
_Downtown. Where they rip your slips._  
_Downtown. Where relationships are no go._  
_Down on Skid Row.”_  
  
Steve sang with bravado, letting himself become emerged in the story. Bucky echoed the backup, Steve in charge.  
  
_“Poor, all my life I've always been poor._  
_I keep askin' God what I'm for, And he tells me, "Gee. I'm not sure._  
_Oh, I started life as an orphan._  
_A child of the street, here on Skid Row._  
_He took me in, gave me shelter._  
_A bed, crust of bread, and a job._  
_Treats me like dirt, calls me a slob,_  
_which I am, So I live.”_  
  
Bucky's slipped his hand into Steve's, pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles. Both men singing in harmony, closing the song together. Eventually, the caravan arrived at the campsite. Everyone left their cars together, marching their ways to their assigned cabins. Steve and Bucky in the very back at cabin number seventeen. Opening the door, the two entered, collapsing on the bed immediately, not even bothering to change clothes.

* * *

 

Clint was guiding a canoe mid-lake, Natasha sitting on the opposite side of him soaking up the sun. Steve had found a recliner and was sketching out the entire scene. He used to sketch all the time, and it wasn't until recently that he even had a desire to try again. Steve was almost done shading the water when Bucky collapsed in the chair next to him. The way the light was bouncing off his skin was breathtaking. “Bucky." Steve said, "Don’t move.”  
  
Quickly, Steve roughed Bucky's outline on the page, trying to get the way the sun was landing. The shadow drifting across his face. The one flip-flop that had fallen off his foot. Steve was filling in Bucky's lips when he saw them twitch.  
  
“Bucky. Don’t. Move.”  
  
“But Stevie. You’re staring at me. And I just can’t take it.” Steve was trying to figure out how to get the mischief in Bucky's eyes on the page when Bucky began to smile. Steve signed, abandoning his pad. Closing the short distance between his seat and Buckys. Bucky shifted, allowing room for both to fit comfortably, laying his head on Steve’s lap. There was no rush. Time was standing still for them. There was a lake and sunshine and a little too much fresh air.  
  
Steve felt a tightness in his chest he wasn’t used to, the realization of what his life was becoming. Happiness solidifying for him. Willingness to do anything to make this man happy. Steve had wanted this. And he was positive Bucky wanted it to. He was sure this was happening to them.  
  
“Bucky." Steve began massaging Buckys head, running his fingers through his freshly chopped air. "Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Anything.”  
  
“This is for real, right? I mean, it hasn’t exactly been the most traditional relationship." Steve said. "But then, I’ve never really been good at relationships before you, and I just need to know that..”  
  
“Yes." Bucky interrupted. "Steve. This is very, very, very for real.” Bucky reached for Steve’s shoulders, pulling him gently down to kiss.  
  
Steve nodded, reaching for his sketch pad, continuing to fill in Bucky's form on the page while he relaxed in his lap.

* * *

Hiding in a tree, Steve wrapped himself tighter in his flannel, consumed by the game of capture the flag. The crew had decided that Steve was best left guarding the flag (boxers tied to a stick) while they chased down the casts flag (a bra tied to a stick).  
  
Steve had his hair hidden under a beanie, attempting to force his fair features to blend into the night. The plan was to leave the flag appearing unguarded, and as soon as someone approached, Steve was to jump on them. It was foolproof.  
  
It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Attack was imminent. And Steve was ready. He sat perched on his branch, the boxers in his view.  
  
To his right, he could vaguely see a moving figure approaching. He lowered himself closer to the branch, holding his breath. Waiting. Whoever it was was loud was loud. Much too loud for someone trying to be stealth. Steve squinted in the dark, trying to get a better view. It was a man, that he was sure of. But the rest of their features were blocked by the trees and cover of night. Maybe Tony?  
  
Suddenly, the figure sprinted off in the opposite direction.  
  
Weird. Looking for whatever caused the guy to run he ran from, Steve stared harder into the darkness. Oh.

Natasha was quickly approaching. Steve crouched himself as close to the branch as he could, preparing. Nat stalled momentarily, searching for the guard, then sprang for the flag at the same moment Steve swung himself from the branch. It wasn’t enough. She reached around Steve, grabbing the boxers off the makeshift pole, and took off back for camp.  
  
Overcome with the desire to win, Steve lept from the branch, following Natasha back to camp, howling for his team to defend their honor. By the time Steve finally caught up with her, the cast was celebrating. Amid the celebration stood Bucky, bra wrapped around his head, waving the boxers in the air. Steve bent to his knees, laughing. Behind him, the rest of the crew came running from the woods, Peggy leading the charge.  
  
“James Barnes," Peggy yelled, "you take my brazier off your giant crown this instant!” Steve was now rolling on the ground, completely overwhelmed at how quickly Bucky sprinted away from Peggy, horror-struck. Angie could be heard in the background cheering Peggy on. The rest of the team gathered around the fire pit, preparing food and s’mores. Singing with each other well into the night. Eventually, Peggy returned with her bra. Followed by Bucky, who was now wearing boxers around his neck.  
  
Much later, after many rounds of never-have-I-ever, everyone started retreating to their cabins, slightly high from sugar.  
  
Pushing open the door, Steve and Bucky stumbled into their cabin, once again exhausted. “Everything packed, Buck?” Steve asked, kicking his shoes off and falling backward into the bed, immediately closing his eyes. He heard Bucky remove his boots, felt him climb beside him.  
  
“Bags are by the door, Stevie. Time for sleep.” He felt Bucky nudge his chin, pressing small kisses next to his lips.

“Mm. You missed.” Steve tilted, pressing their lips together, content.  
  
“Love you, punk.”  
“Love you, jerk.”

* * *

 

The sun streamed through the cabin window, warming Steve's face. Steve rolled over, trying to escape the light. Bucky had his face buried underneath his pillow, slobber pooled by his mouth. His short hair sticking up everywhere. There was a soft knock on their cabin door.

"Go away!" Bucky groaned. Steve scooted closer under Bucky's arm, nudging him softly to steal more blankets. Bucky grunted. More knocking. Louder now. Bucky buried his head further under his pillow, mumbling. The door flew open, Natasha standing in the center.

“Rogers. Do you have any extra batteries? Clint can’t find his.” Bucky finally opened his eyes, seeing Natasha. He shrieked, pulling the covers up higher to cover himself and Steve. Natasha stood in the door, looking very unimpressed. Steve was laughing. Steve was a lot of things, but shy of his body was not one of them. Steve pushed his head out from under the covers despite Bucky trying to pull him back underneath. “Ew." Natasha shook her head. "You two are gross. I just need batteries. Barton said you might have some?”  
  
Bucky froze, still hidden beneath the covers. Steve felt arms wrap around his waist, soft hair pressed against his back. “Make her go away, Steve. She's mean. She called us gross.” Steve tried to sit up, but Bucky's grip tightened. He wasn’t going anywhere. Smiling at the blanket, he shoved a hand under tangling his fingers in Buckys. A content sigh floated up from underneath the sheets.  
  
“Yeah." Steve laughed. "Sure thing. I would get them for you, but ugh, for some reason I can’t move. If you could just,” Steve gestured to the small bag propped against the wall. “The batteries are in that one.”

  
Nat grabbed the bag, slowly walking to the bed. “I’m approaching the bed, Barnes. Please.” She sounded uninterested, but Natasha's face was soft. “Behave yourself.” Steve took the bag, opening the pocket where the batteries were stored, feeling around inside.  
  
“Bucky, we remembered to pack the batteries for the hearing aids? Right? I can’t find them. But I know I remember putting them in here.” Steve turned the bag upside down, pouring the contents onto the mattress. Natasha shifted, observing the pile on the bed. Hesitantly, Bucky poked his head above the covers.  
  
“Inhaler. Epis. Meds. Maintenances. Contacts. Glasses. All here. But where are the batteries?” Steve was pushing stuff around, making sure to inspect everything. Bucky sat up further, reaching over to move the stuff around as well.  
  
“The chargers are missing too, Steve," Bucky said, more awake now. "We definitely packed all the chargers, right?”  
  
“Where are your phones?” Both men looked up from the bed, caught off guard. Nat repeated, “Where are your phones?” Bucky looked at the nightstand.  
  
“Huh." We put them there last night, right?”  
  
Steve shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “What are you not telling us, Nat?” Beside him, Bucky was now searching the nightstand. “Steve, some other stuff is missing too.”

* * *

 

The cast and crew gathered around the commons ground. Batteries were missing from handheld devices, and any spares were gone as well. Everyone's cell phones were gone. Peppers laptop was missing. Power cords had disappeared. Certain prescriptions had vanished. Bruce mentioned his supplements were gone. A pair of sunglasses had been taken from Clint. Various people couldn't find their play scripts. Every cabin was searched, nothing being found. They were running out of daylight and options all at once.  
  
Angie had her arm wrapped around Pepper, who was fighting tears off her face. “I’m so sorry everyone, the best I can do is suggest we leave now and go report to the police station. But the play opens tomorrow, and it's put us in a rather odd predicament.” Pepper was rubbing her face, barely maintaining herself. It broke Steve’s heart.  
  
The understudies were whispering of a curse. Angie was glaring at them. “Tell ya what Peps, everyone writes down their contact information and what's missing. Hand it to Pegs and me, and we'll take it to the police. The rest of you pack up and start heading back to the theater. If we all leave now, we’ll get there with enough time to sleep and be at the theater by noon.” Pepper nodded, too tired to argue, taking Angie's hand in hers.  
  
Everyone began to write down their missing things, handing the list to Angie. Peggy was helping some of the understudies that rode with them pack up the trunk, preparing to take off as soon as the list was made.  
  
Steve handed Angie their list, noting the two phones, batteries, and medications missing. “You sure this is a good idea Angie?”

“They took my script, Steve. I know that probably seems stupid to you. It's stupid to me. Thinking of all the things everyone missing," Angie shook her head. "But they took my script. I have to do this or else I won’t be able to rest.”  
  
Steve thought of his sketch pad, packed safely in the car, understanding more than he would admit. Bucky stood next to him, as the rest of the cast and crew watched Peggy and Angie and those who had rode with them drive away.

 

* * *

 

The cast arrives back in town early in the morning, all meeting at the Playhouse before heading home. Tony was trying to talk Pepper out of staying at the playhouse. The longer things went without a word from Angie, the more unsettled everyone became. “I just can’t believe I let her go. We should've all went together. I don’t know what I was thinking. How am I supposed to know when she’ll get back?” Pepper was resigned, sitting on the outside steps.  
  
“Yeah. I know, babe. Nothing we can do about it now though." Tony said. "I've got Happy on his way out there.” Tony rubbed Peppers back, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. It was the most public with their relationship they had ever been. Pepper leaned her head towards him.  
  
“Tony. The show. There’s so much riding on this. What was I thinking?”  
  
“She’ll be back in time," Tony assured. "Don’t worry.” Everyone was off their center, not sure of how to react to a situation like this. Finally, Tony talked Pepper into heading home. Bucky and Steve escorting them to their cars.  
  
Steve had the overwhelming feeling of forgetting something important. It was there, just on the edge of his memories, but what it was he couldn’t remember. A car door slammed, causing Steve to jump, the mind falling further away. Bucky shouted Steve's name, motioning for them to leave as well. Steve glanced back towards the edge of the Playhouse one last time, before retreating to Bucky and the waiting car.

* * *

 

 

The cast and crew were sitting in the front rows of the auditorium. Most everyone was already in costume. Bucky sat next to Steve, short-sleeved white button up, giant bow tie. Glasses placed firmly on his face. He was on edge, nervous for the production and worried for his friends. Next to him, Steve bit his nails.

“Has anyone heard from Angie? Or Peggy? Anyone?” Pepper dropped her hands. “Tony?” Pepper was wearing all black, her hands twisting together. She was standing on the stage, addressing the crew.  
  
“Happy’s almost to the police station at the campground. He’s been sending regular updates, but he doesn’t have anything solid yet. I’m sorry Pepper.”  
  
The play was scheduled to open in an hour. Thirty minutes from now, the audience would start filling the seats. Extra promotion and the Kiss of Theater podcast had sold the show entirely out. Steve’s posters were lining the outside of the Playhouse featuring Bucky and Angie retreating from Audrey 2’s hungry shadow. And tonight. Preview night? People were lined up outside waiting for the doors to open as they spoke.  
  
“And her understudy?" Pepper asked. "No one’s heard from her either?” Everyone started murmuring, turning in their seats, searching. Pepper closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Exhaling, she glanced at her crew.  
  
“Okay. We’re in a predicament. Yes.” Pepper pinched her nose, loudly exhaling. “I’ll go make the announcement that the show is canceled for the night.”

Watching Pepper walk all drawn in on herself, Steve was reminded of months ago, when the sun marquee fell. Bucky claiming the play was doomed. How he'd promised Bucky that the play was going to be okay. Without thinking, Steve rose to his feet, drawing the attention of everyone in the theater. “Pepper! Wait!”  
  
Pepper stopped halfway to the lobby turning to face Steve.  
  
Steve wasn't thinking straight. All he could think of was Angie and Bucky and how much this play meant to everyone. “I can do it,” Steve said. Next, to him, Bucky shifted in his seat, mouth hanging open.  
  
“You can do what, Steve?” Pepper asked, was frustrated.  
  
“He can be Audrey,” Bucky said, standing next to him now, a mixture of pride and fear on his face. Bucky reached for Steves' hand, squeezing it.  
  
Pepper was staring at both of them. “Are you sure?”  
  
“He knows all the lines," Bucky answered. "He knows all the songs. He knows the cues.” Bucky nodded, setting his face. “He can do it tonight, and then Angie can resume tomorrow when she’s back. Because she will be back.”  
  
Everyone in the theater was quiet, watching Pepper. “Steve, the prop crew will be fine without you?”

A row back, Peter stood up. “We can do it, Miss Potts. We know all the cues.  
  
“What will you wear?” Pepper was nodding, moving back towards her crew.  
  
“We’ve got old costumes in the back," Darcy answered. "I’m sure we can put a few things together real fast.” Darcy rose from her seat, motioning for Steve to follow. Steve waited, needing to hear Pepper say the word.  
  
She stood, a thousand thoughts crossing her face before she nodded. “God save us all." Pepper threw her arms up, "Let’s do it. It’ll be progressive, at the very least. Just change all the lyrics that say Audrey to," she waved her hands, "what sounds similar to Audrey?”  
  
Bruce raised his hand. “How about Audie?”  
  
“Audie.” Pepper sighed. “It’ll have to do. Jack, you can perform with Steve as Audrey tonight?” Jack nodded. “Okay. Steve. Go. Get dressed. Everyone backstage now. We have to lean on each other more than usual tonight, but the show must go on.”

* * *

 

Darcy was shoving clothes at Steve, who had stripped down and was pushing things on just as fast. Bruce was talking in the walkie-talkie to Clint up in the sound booth. “House is filling up fast," Bruse told them. "Clint says the place is almost packed.”  
  
Steve pulled the cardigan over his head. “Okay. How do I look?”  
  
Bucky was biting his nails now, staring at the makeshift costume. “I have an idea.” Bucky took his bowtie off, putting it on Steve instead. “You’re gonna look a cross between a Pink Lady and a librarian. I’m gonna take these geek clothes off and go full Uncle Buck. Jack still has his dentist look, so there's that.” Bucky shrugged.  
  
Steve nodded. From outside, Steve could hear Pepper on stage, welcoming everyone to the show. Everything was happening so fast. Bucky placed Steves inhalers in his hands. “Steve. I need you to breath, Steve.” Bucky was buttoning up a very stiff looking shirt. "Put that in your pocket. If you use it during the play, it'll be fine. Everyone will just think its a prop."  
  
"Okay." Steve took a hit from his inhaler, shoving it back in his pocket. "Let’s do this.”

 

 


	9. Act 2: Preview Night I

From behind the curtain, Steve palms the inhaler in his pocket, making sure it’s still there. He’s listening to Erik complain how poorly business is when he hears Audrey’s cue.

His cue.

Audies cue.

Steve takes a deep breath, ready to run on stage when behind him, his arm is pulled. Stopping his entrance. Missing his cue.

Bruce stands there, with Steve’s arm in his hand, apologetic look as he smears makeup on Steves face. “When you sing, sing to Bucky. Don’t sing to the crowd. Or you might fuck up. Break a leg, Steve.” Then Bruce shoves Steve on to the stage.

* * *

 

“Well look who finally decided to show up!” Erik booms, placing his hands behind his head. Steve makes note again how method Erik is. It’s actually a bit unnerving.

Then Steve sees Bucky, waiting just off stage left with a worried look on his face. And all his fears vanish. He can do this.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mushnik." Steve says, "Won’t happen again.” Steve walks to the counter, starting to wipe the pretend dirt away.

“That’s what you always say!” Erik waves his hands moving to lean against the counter. Steve takes a moment to be proud of how sturdy the props are, thinking it’s a good thing he reinforced them. “Why, Audie!" Erik continues, leaning close to Steve's face. "Where’d you get that shiner?”

Steve rubs his face. He can feel his mouth gaping. What's the line? The moment goes on just slightly too long with Steve staring back at Eric. Whats the line? From stage right, there sounds a crash, like a godsend. Erik turns towards it. “Boy!" Erik yells. "What are you doing down there!?”

Bucky yells from off stage, “Sorry, Mr. Mushnik!” before he jogs on, stage left, carrying potted plants on a tray. Bucky over exaggerates his jog, causing himself to trip and drop all the pots. Steve gasp, reaching for silk flowers as Erik turns on Bucky.

“Seymour! My plants! My inventory!” Erik runs over to where Bucky fell, hoovering over Bucky and the mess of plants. Beneath him, Bucky feigns terror. Steve can see, just off to his side, Bucky eye him.

“Mr. Mushnik!" Steve yells, grabbing the prop broom and running from behind the counter. "Don’t yell at Seymour!” Nailed it. “I’ll clean it up!” Steve goes to sweep up the mess, bending to a knee, using the small broom and dust tray.

Bucky still has himself fallen on the stage. As Steve makes for sweeping up the mess, Bucky winks at him. “Gee, Audie." Bucky croons. "You look radiant today. Is that...is that new eye makeup?” Bucky gets to his knees, reaching to put pieces of the potts into the dust tray Steve is holding, brushing the back of Steve’s hand. Steve can feel his face pull into an involuntary smile.

In front of them, Erik screams to the audience. “Business is lousy! And this idiot breaks all my inventory! My cashier is always late! My life is a living hell!” He begins to yell at the chorus girls, as Natasha, Helen, and Darcy roll their eyes and walk away from him. The sounds of Skid Row filling the air. Actors falling into their stances to serenade the room.

Steve props himself back on the counter, staring at Bucky, who is singing directly to the audience. Taking Bruce’s advice, Steve ignores the audience and sings only to Bucky.

* * *

“Not a single thing sold today! That’s it! We’re going out of business!” Steve watched Erik flip the open sign to close. Personally, he thought he was overselling it a bit, but Erik was the real actor, not Steve. Steve jumped from the counter, running to Bucky's side. Steve, hyperaware of everything, feels Bucky brush by him. He forces himself to stand where he is, watching Bucky approach Erik. It’s weird for him, being on stage. He’s having a hard time separating Bucky from Seymour. Erik from Mushnik. Steve hears Bucky’s voice, but it's not something Bucky would say. Steve tries to focus.

“But Mr. Mushnik, I have something we can use to revitalize the store. If you could, just..” Bucky leaned into his dialogue about strange and interesting new plants, running to grab the first iteration of Audrey 2. Which is now Audie 2. Huh. It was small, made from foam, and fit in Bucky's hands perfectly. Steve had spent three days working on it. Bucky held the plant close to his chest, reverently. “Let me show you the Audie 2!”

Steve leans towards him, placing his hand over his heart. Giving himself a small pep talk. The sweater they'd squeezed Steve into was slightly too tight, causing his arm movements to be sharper than he intended. Steve pushes his glasses atop his head, before taking a big, audible gasp. Hoping it looked like shock, but he really just needed the air. “Oh! Seymour!" Steve squealed. "You named your plant after me?” Steve batts his lashes at Bucky.

For a second, Bucky falters, his cheeks tinting slightly. Then Bucky kicks his foot behind him, feigning embarrassment. “I hope you don’t mind. I should've asked first.” Bucky moves towards the set window, placing the plant firmly in the center. Behind the window, an extra walks by as Bucky continues his lines. “You see sir," Bucky says, "if we just place Audie 2 here.” The extra turns around, coming to stare at the plant again, then burst through the shop door. For a second, Steve worries the wall will fall over, but it holds steady.

“Excuse me, Sir!" The extra yells, pointing at the window. "Can you tell me about that strange and interesting plant!”

The melodies of Total Eclipse of the Sun come on, the spotlight centers on Bucky and Bucky launches into his story, of the day he found the plant, Audrey 2. Now Audie 2.

* * *

 

 

Backstage, Bruce was holding his microphone to his face, ready to voice Audrey 2. Or Audie 2. The music for Grow For Me came on and Bucky's voice filled the air. Bruce covered the mic, motioning for Steve to approach.

“You’re doing really great Steve.”  
“Thanks.  
“Don’t fuck this up.”  
“Thanks.”

Bruce lifts the microphone to his lips, making sucking noises into it. Steve glances to the stage, seeing the lights make the plant appear to grow. Off to stage left, Steve briefly sees on of the extras move, but he can’t decipher who it is. A stagehand approaches Steve with a new outfit. A cheetah print short sleeve button up, with a bright blue bow tie, skinny black cords, and a newsboy hat. Technically, this outfit is more in character than what he has on. And Steve is almost positive this is Buckys hat. He buttons the shirt, slipping the bow tie over his head, glancing to the backstage mirror quickly. Damn. He looks good. On stage, the pre-recorded radio broadcast starts playing. Over the speakers, Ya Never Know fills the air, launching the chorus girls into praise of Seymour.

Steve peeks to the audience, looking for reactions. Everything seems calm mostly. The spotlight is rotating around the stage and briefly falls on Sam and Riley, granting Steve a quick glimpse of something glinting off Riley's finger. He can feel his face lighten. Good for them.  
The stagehand taps Steve shoulder again, black tulle in her hand. “Apologies, Mr. Rogers. We gotta break your arm now. And your black eye needs blackening.” She grabs his arm, pressing it to his chest, tightly making a sling from the tulle, and tying it in place.

Steve can’t place who she is. He’s confident he’s seen her before, but he’s not sure. She has red hair and freckles. Frustrated, he sighs, pushing the hat over his hearing aids. “No offense," Steve says, "but who are you? I don’t think I know you?” She smiles up at him, and Steve notices her eyes. There’s something about them, he thinks, that he just can’t figure out.

“I’m a friend. Of a friend. Heard you guys needed some help. My name’s Sinthea. I think you’re doing great, Steve.” She’s giggling now. “It’s all really funny, so far. But you need to get ready. I think your cue might be coming up?”

She motions over his shoulder, where Bucky is running back on the stage, tripping over his shoes, carrying a slightly larger version of the plant. The plant formerly known as Audrey 2, now known as Audie 2. It's bigger now and covers Bucky's entire chest. This model has springs in it, to simulate life. Soon, they’re going to have to wheel the big animatronic version on the stage.

Sinthea is right. As soon as Bucky runs back off stage, Steve needs to run on. Steve turns to her, quickly. “Any word on Angie and Peggy?”

Sinthea shrugs, flipping through a script. “You’re next lines are asking if you missed the radio show and saying Orin isn’t such a horrible guy even though you know he is. Also, this is when you sing Somewhere That’s Green.” The way Sinthea ignores Steve question bothers him. Who is she? But then Steve's cue is sounded and its time for him to run on the stage just as Bucky exits to stage left.

* * *

 

Steve runs up to Natasha, who twirls in her skirt, pretending to be caught off guard. Steve takes a step back as if he startled her. Breathlessly, Steve whispers, slightly winded “Did I miss it?” He can feel his chest spazzing. He knows he’s freaking out, but there is no way he is going to ruin this by having an asthma attack on stage.

“You sure did!” Helen flips her hair while. Darcy jumps, dramatically avoiding getting hit by it. Steve hangs his head, dejected. Wheezing.

He makes his way behind the counter set, ignoring Natasha, who is trying to discreetly look at his mocked up arm. Steve has a line here. He knows he has a line here. He can’t really focus when all he can feel is just how hot the stage lights are. Focus, Steve. You can do this.

“I tried to be on time!" Steve rasp. "I wanted to be here for Seymour’s first radio show!” Nailed it.

Natasha’s lip twitches and she walks behind the prop counter, wrapping her arm around Steves' shoulders. He knows this isn’t part of the script, and he’s thankful. Even if hardly anyone knows she’s showing it. Steve looks at her, matching her breathing.

Natasha grins at him, then questions. “Did you get tied up?” This line Steve knows.

“No, just a little handcuffed, is all.” The audience laughs, and Steve feels less hot, still matching Natashas rhythm.

To his side, Darcy chimes in, always on beat. “I don’t know who this guy is you’re hanging with, but he is hazardous to your health!”

Steve wraps his arm around his side, staring out into the audience. Attempting to look like he’s looking far away, thinking he probably just looks constipated. “He’s all I got." Steve begins, "I can’t leave him.”

Helen bumped Darcy’s hip, crossing her arms over her chest. “And why not?”

Steve turns into Natasha, scrunching his face up, confiding, “If he does this to me when he likes me, just imagine what he’d do to me if he didn’t.”

Natasha goes to answer, but Darcy beats her to it. “So dump him. Get another guy. Let the new guy protect you.”

And this time Natasha speaks, “and we got one all picked out for you!”

Steve pulls his face tight, trying to look doubtful. “You do?”

All three answer at once. “We do!” Helen grins, “He’s a botanist. Heck of one too!” Steve loves this part. The part where Audrey, or Audie in this case, can admit the attraction for Seymour. Where the character really develops into something more profound. People write her off because she’s nasally and simple, but all Audrey ultimately wants is for someone to love her for who she is. And she wants to return that love in the ways she knows best. Steve understands that. He really understands that. Somewhere That's Green begins to play. Dreamily, Steve doesn't hesitate to lean across the counter, feeling more like Audrey as he lets the lines flow. Steve understands why Audrey would want a life like this. Something simple. Something happy. He reaches his hand out, images of him and Bucky floating in his mind. It doesn’t matter where. All that matters is they’re together. And Steve understands. And he should have understood already. Afterall, he’s on a stage in front of a packed house, barely managing not to crash this play. But Steve’s willing. And he wants to. And he’s ready to have his somewhere green. As long as Bucky is there with him. The music cuts off. He pulls his hand back and wipes tears away, not entirely sure how they got there. The lights go out, signaling the end of scene two.

Even in the dark, Steve can see Riley and Sam watching him from the second row. Next, to them, a woman sits, her hand over her chest. Turning away from their gaze, he exits to stage right.

* * *

 

Backstage, Sinthea hands Steve another shirt, which he quickly puts on. This one is bright pink. Then she ties a button up sweater around his shoulders. Steve can hear the crew moving Audrey 2, now Audie 2, closer to where they are going to bring it in from. Briefly, Steve walks over to the crew pushing the animatronic. “Please be careful!" Steve says. "Don’t bump it too much!” Steve bends down, quickly, checking the empty space where they are supposed to hide once eaten. Then more stagehands start moving the second shop scene behind the second curtain, preparing for the next part. Audrey 2, now Audie 2, will be brought in from stage left. The lights come up on the stage, and he hears Bucky's voice telling the audience the shop is closed for renovations.

Shaking slightly, Steve tries to steady himself. His emotions are all over the place. He can practically feel himself crashing. At this point, he knows he’s going on pure adrenaline. Reaching for his pocket, Steve feels nothing there and begins to panic.

“Excuse, Sinthea? You don’t have my inhaler, do you? From my other costume?”

She looks up from the script. There’s still something about her eyes he can’t figure out. “Sure don’t, Mr. Rogers. Your next lines are the ones about shopping, going on a date, and then handcuffs. Which I have, right here. Put these in your pocket.”  
  
Closing his eyes, Steve counts to ten. Twice., steadying his hands, then marches, joining Bucky on stage in song. Steve falls in line behind Bucky, who is in line behind Erik. The three of them sing, marching haphazardly, before stopping mid-stage. Then the curtain rises, revealing the renovated shop. Briefly, Steve thinks he was right to add maroon to the set. Bucky really does stand out from it nicely. Bucky walks up to him, everything in character except the small wrinkle between his brows. They hit the high note together, Steve wheezing at the end, then turn their back to the audience.

Side by side, they walk to the covered object sitting slightly stage left, grabbing the sheet. One. Two. Three. And pull! There sits the fully animatronic Audrey 2, now known as Audie 2. Steve had made an elaborate sign with Audrey 2 painted on it. He had spent an entire day making sure the font was readable from the back of the auditorium. It’s been flipped over now, Audie 2 written thinly in sharpie marker on the other side.

Out of all the things to snap him to reality, this was it. Steve can’t stop himself. He feels his face contorting, staring at the sign, chest tightening tighter. And then Bucky’s fakes an unscripted fall, tripping Steve down with him, the two landing on top of each other. And then Bucky’s voice is in his ear. “Steve. Slow breaths. Watch me.” And then they are up, everything in character except the wrinkle between Bucky's brows.

“Oh gee, Audie!” Bucky says. “I’m sorry! I’m such a klutz! Always falling.” Bucy’s so obviously stalling for him, giving Steve time to calm down.

“That’s okay, Seymour," Steve says, watching the rise and fall of Bucky's chest. "I’ve taken harder hits than that.” The audience laughs. Bucky frowns, very aware of the hits Steve really means. And then Steve forces himself to continue. “Ya know what, Seymour? We should go shopping. For a new wardrobe for ya. For all your interviews and stuff.”

Bucky looks down at his shirt. Which, admittedly, is a horrible shirt, something between a bowling uniform and too much starch. Then Bucky meshes his face into something goofy, staring love right into Steves' eyes.

“Gee. You’d be seen in public with me?” Bucky asks. “In like, a

Steve laughs, less tense now. Breathing easier “Well, yeah.” Steve knows he’s in trouble because Bucky is making that face. And Steve can’t say no to that face. He’s pretty sure he's supposed to say no, but this face is a superpower. Steve’s not even sure that Bucky’s aware he’s doing it. Steve loosens up, watching the curve of Bucky’s cheeks. The way his hair has flattened slightly to the side. Bucky’s eyes are enormous now. Steve can’t say no to that.

“You’d be seen in public with me, maybe tonight?” Bucky asks. And Steve knows he's supposed to say no. He has to say no. Be an actor, Steve! Say no. "Okay! Tonight." Shit. He was supposed to say no.

“Oh! Really?” Bucky improvises and throws his arms around himself, wrapping himself in a giant hug.

Steve can’t help it, he laughs, saying what he knows he needs to say. “Well. Not tonight. I got a date.”

And the hug deflates instantly. Bucky kicks his foot out, then says “some other time then.”

“Well, I better go get ready," Steve says, waving. "See ya later, Seymour.” Steve exits the shop door, propping himself against the back of the set. The sound of a motorcycle roars to life. Steve listens to Bucky complain about Audies' boyfriend. Then the lights over the flower shop drop, and Bucky bust through the shop door, looking for Steve. In the background, the Dentist song plays. Jack is on stage with the chorus girls, introducing himself to the audience. Thankfully, it's a long song.

Behind the set, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve, pulling him closer to him. They don’t have much time. Steve falls into the hug, nuzzling his face under Bucky's neck. By his ear, Bucky begins to whisper. Frantic.“Steve. You’re doing so great, baby. You really are. Listen to me, okay. Deep breaths. Where is your inhaler?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know. I changed clothes and now I can’t find it.”

Steve can feel his heart speed up. Softly, Bucky lifts his chin, their eyes finally meeting. “The girls are okay," Bucky says. "Everyone is okay. I need you to breath.” Bucky turns Steve hands over in his own, placing Steves fingers on his pulse. Bucky starts taking deep, slow breaths. Steve’s nodding, mimicking his breaths, and finally, he’s okay. They’re going to be okay. Everyone is okay. On the stage, just out of their view, Jack is approaching the close of his song. Soon, Bucky is going to have to go back out, and then shortly after, Steve will need to follow. “Pepper said Happy has the girls. Someone switched the plates on Angie's car, and when she went to the police station about the stuff missing, they ended up detaining her because someone reported the car stolen.” Bucky scoffs. "It’s elaborate. But I think they meant to put those plates on your car. I think it’s Brock.”

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Steve remembers now. Steve had been working so hard last night to remember what he was forgetting. A shadowed figure in the woods. “I saw him," Steve says, positive. "The night we were playing capture the flag. I thought it was Tony, but it's obvious now. I saw Brock at the camp.” The crease returns to Bucky’s brows as he begins to look around behind the set.

Bucky looks at Steve and continues to talk, nerves evident in his voice. “We’ll figure it out." Bucky's cue is coming up. He’s going to need to go back on the stage real soon."Peppers in the sound booth with Tony and Clint. Happy and the girls are on their way back. Should be here by the end of the play, hopefully. I imagine Angie's pretty pissed. But the important thing now is you keep doing good work.” Bucky reaches for the cardigan tied around Steve’s shoulders, undoing the knot, tossing it just beside the shop door. “Don’t forget to forget your sweater, Audie.” Steve smiles, just as Bucky reaches out, slightly flicking his nose.

And then Bucky's cue sounds. He gives Steve one last look over, before running back into the light. Seconds later Bucky’s heard clearing his throat, then loudly complaining about motorcycles. Steve smirks at the irony. And then it's his cue, and he’s running out to Bucky and Jack facing off, the Dentist trying to convince Seymour to take the fancy plant and leave Skid Row.

Steve feels calmer, knowing his friends are okay. They can do this. They are doing this. He can do this. Steve stops by Bucky, pointing to Jack. “Oh, Seymour!" Steve says, waving his arms. "This is my boyfriend. Orin Scrivello.” Steve leans past Bucky, making eyes at Jack, catching Jack off guard. Jack hesitantly raises his fist towards Steve, and at the moment, Steve raises his back. Then he remembers he’s supposed to cower. It's an odd feeling. Steve doesn’t like it. Behind him, he can swear he hears Bucky snort. Steve’s pretty sure he hears giggles from the second row as well. Then he remembers his line. Embarrassed, Steve draws himself back. Trying to appear apprehensive, he corrects his mistake. “I mean, Orin Scrivello, D.D.S.”

Jack nods. They continue the scene. Steve does remember to drag the handcuffs out of his back pocket, just as Jack asked if he’s ready to go. Together, Steve and Jack exit stage right, Steve looking over his shoulder at Bucky. Bucky seems tense looking straight at Steve’s, and Steve's positive Bucky isn't acting.

Over the speaker, Bruce’s voice booms. “FEED ME!”

The music for Git It starts playing. Audrey 2, now Audie 2, convincing Seymour to feed him. Steve moves to watch just behind the curtain, where he can see the scene unfolding. Something doesn’t look right with the animatronics for the plant. It’s too jerky. Too fast. Steve’s squinting, trying to look at the side where the manual control panel is. And then Jack starts yelling at Steve behind the curtain, screaming about how Audie can’t do anything right. Steve’s caught off guard, having been so focused on the control panel. Jack makes a frantic motion for him to run back on stage. He’s utterly confused, having completely lost his focus on the scene. He asks Jack, “What? Why?”

Jack stares at him, open-mouthed. “You forgot your sweater!" Jack spits. "Go get it! Go get the sweater! Jesus Christ!”

“Shit!”

Steve starts running, tripping over his foot, collapsing face first onto the stage, barely having made it past the curtain. Steve pushes himself up, faster than he ever has before, and collides with Bucky mid-stage, both trying to speak at the same time.

“I forgot my sweater!”  
“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, Seymour! I got to go!”  
“Ste.., Audie, wait!”

Steve takes off, running through the shop door, grabbing the sweater where Bucky had tossed it. Steve pivots, turning to flee back off the stage. Bucky stands beside Audrey 2, now Audie 2, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. As soon as Steve’s back off stage, Bruce’s voice is heard plotting to kill the dentist. Eventually, Bucky joins in.

Steve’s next big scene isn’t until Suddenly Seymour, giving him time to compose himself. Sinthea has him propped against a wall, adding makeup to his face and pushing shirts against his chest. On stage, Steve can hear Bucky and Jack sing-song fighting. They sound good. Pretty soon, it’ll be time to feed the plant. And then act one will be over. Finally.

“This one.” Cinthea hands him his new shirt. More animal print.

Steve turns to Cinthea, perplexed. "Who did you say you were again?" Steve asked. "You said you were here helping a friend?"

“I have a background in theater," Sinthea answers, unbothered. "My friend said it looked like someone was trying to sabotage your show and I offered to help as best I could.” And then the curtain drops, and the auditorium lights go up for Intermission. The stagehands are changing the sets, wheeling the new scenes into place. Audrey 2, now Audie 2, is being moved to the center of the stage.

“Steve!”

Steve turns, seeing Bucky run across the stage from stage left, the curtain hiding him from the audience. “I found your inhaler! Someone put it in a trashcan.” Bucky stops in front of him, pushing it into Steves' hands, perplexed, eyeing Sinthea. “Steve," Bucky asks, voice low. "What the fuck is she doing here?”


	10. Act 2: Preview Night II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I had to heavily edit this chapter. And also made a few changes. It wasn't sitting right with me and there were things from before that I wanted to change and since I'm reposting I went ahead and changed them. Quick notice...I originally had wanted to call Audrey Audie but had made the realization too late. Well...I changed it. So please don't get confused. Anyway...happy reading. Almost finished reposting.

Sinthea stares at Bucky, frozen. Bucky, both bewildered and stunned, gapes at Sinthea. Steve, for what may be the first time in his life, does nothing. For a brief moment, the world stops. The chaotic clatter of theater happenings melts away. The world spins between the three, the moment growing tenser as time slowly beats away.

And then Sinthea runs, pushing through both Bucky and Steve, breaking the trance that had enraptured them all. The three make enough noise as one flees the theater and two follow-ons her pursuit that the stagehands stop moving the props, turning to watch the chase. Sinthea sprints through the back exit and escapes into the night. Close on her heels runs Bucky, shouting for her to stop.

Bucky gets to the backstage door, but Sinthea has gone, disappearing into the dark world of the night. Bucky runs to the sidewalk, searching both sides of the street. Behind him, Steve jogs from the back of the theater, following him to the parking lot.

“Bucky?” Steve yells, the night air saturated with heat. In the middle of the back lot, Bucky runs to the middle of the street, spinning in all directions, frantically peering into the belly of the city.

“I’ve got to find her," Bucky yells, starting to run down the street. "She can’t be here. I can’t believe no one noticed. I got to find her. We’ve got to tell Pepper. We need to cancel the second half of the show!”  
  
Bucky’s still jogging away from the theater when Steve finally reaches him, chest heaving and covered in sweat. Behind them, in the playhouse, life continues, no one braving the new drama happening outside. “Bucky!” Steve wheezes, bending to hug his knees. “Who is she?”  
  
Its the sound of Steve sucking in air that finally makes BUcky stop running. The sight of the smaller man propped against the light post sends Bucky sprinting towards him. “She’s with Brock," Bucky says, eyeing Steve. "She used to work with us at the Playhouse. Sinthea was the old set designer before you, but Pepper banned her from the house. Things just kept going wrong when she was around. Sets would mysteriously break mid-scene, people kept getting hurt. I actually can’t believe no one saw her," Bucky says "but it makes sense with how crazy tonight's been. She must have just slipped in.”  
  
None of it made sense. Why would someone who was barely offended go through so much trouble to sabotage a play? Why go through all this effort?  
  
“Sinthea and Brock are, well." Bucky continues, grabbing Steve's hand and gently tugging him back towards the playhouse. Steve lets himself be pulled, still not fully understanding the purpose in this all. "It’s a weird relationship," Bucky continues, shaking his head, "You know Brock. And they seem to amplify the worst in each other. Which means trouble. But with everything that's happened with Angie, I can almost guarantee Brocks here somewhere.”  
  
The two observed each other carefully. Steve’s stamina was failing, he was tired and confused. Bucky's nerves were rising, anger at the situation they had been placed in. Both were more determined than ever to make it through the night completing the play. In the distance, the city continued living. Noises coming from all over.

“Buck," Steve shakes his head, frustrated. Its all so over the top and petty. THere's no reason for it. "I’m not going to let this play be doomed. We’ve both worked so hard on it. And I'm not going to let some bitter employees fuck all that up. So, here’s what we're going to do. Okay?” The moonlight guides them back to the theater, illuminating them as they pull each other up the back steps. “We’re not going to panic anyone," Steve says. "We’re going to radio Clint and tell him whats going on. We are going to be vigilant in our observations. And we’re going to go back on that stage, and kick ass. And then once the play is over, we'll take it from there."  
  
For a moment, all Bucky did was stare. Then Bucky leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “You never give up, do you?”

“Never give up." Steve shrugged, closing the door behind them. "Never surrender.”

Bucky stops, the backstage lights starting to flicker, signaling curtain call. "Seriously?" Bucky asks, a grin finally breaking on his face. "Small Soldiers?”  
  
“It's a good movie!” Steve says, nonplused.  
  
“If Brock shows up," Bucky sighs, serious again. "Which at this point I’m positive he's here somewhere. If and when this happens, you don’t put yourself in danger for the name of show business. Okay?” Steve wasn’t going to promise anything at this point. But Bucky didn't need to know that.

The last light flickered, signaling the cast to prepare for the second half of the show. Steve squeezed Bucky's hand, quickly kissing his knuckles, then shooed Bucky away for his scene.

* * *

 

Steve was distracted. So far, everything was going well even if there was a decidedly different tone on the stage coming from both Steve and Bucky now. They'd made it through two scenes with nothing happening, so maybe the worst of everything was finally over? But something felt wrong. Steve leaned back, taking in Bucky’s full form from center stage. He was wearing a black leather bikers jacket now over his improvised costume. They were midscene, and Steve had a line here. Steve, half on autopilot half scouting the audience, continued on with the scene. He must have nailed it because the audience laughed. From the corner of his eye, Steve saw Riley smack Sam’s leg. Bucky froze, looking at him, taken aback.

  
“Gee!" Bucky laughed, the lights following him as he moved around the stage, the picture of a perfect actor, clearly better at hiding his feelings than Steve. "I’m sorry, Audie! I’ll never wear it again! I was just trying to look more like Orin. I thought that was what you liked.” Bucky pulled the jacket slowly off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor around his feet.  
  
Steve knew his lines here. This was the Suddenly Seymour scene. It was one of the more pivotal parts of the entire play. With everything going on  
  
“I don’t deserve a guy like you, Seymour,” Steve said, hoping he appeared as in character as Bucky was.  
  
“Don’t say something like that!" Bucky, a true wonder, once again delivered his line perfectly. "We’re good for each other. I just know it.”  
  
Overhead, the music to Suddenly Seymour came on. Bucky ran towards Steve, maybe just a beat too fast for the music, grabbing his hand, pulling him to the edge of the stage with him. They sat down, both dangling their feet over and Bucky took Steves hand in his, leaning towards him. Eager. Earnest. They were supposed to be standing. They were supposed to look conflicted. They were supposed to look like they were fighting these urges. But that wasn’t happening.

Bucky began to sing.  
  
“Lift up your head, so much passion exudes you, Here, take my Kleenex, Wipe that worry away, I know your heart, determined and strong, I know things are bad, But we’re going to be okay." Bucky stood to his feet, hovering over where Steve remained seated, feet dangling off the stage. Their eyes locked on each other. "Suddenly I am, right here beside you," Bucky sang "you don't need to worry, don't have to pretend. Suddenly I am, here to provide you, Sweet understanding, till the very end.” Steve was shocked, his grip on Bucky’s hands tightening. Those were not the words he was supposed to sing. They were better.

And Steve knew they were meant just for him. Steves cue was coming up, surely he could give Bucky the same message? He pushes himself up, walking the opposite direction on the stage, away from Bucky, turning to face the audience now. Behind him, Steve could feel Bucky following him.  
  
“Nobody ever, Treated me kindly," Steve began to sing. He wasn't sure how well he'd be able to belt the words, but dammit, he was going to try. "Daddy left early, Mama was …," Steve felt his eyes water, and unable to sing the words, he simply shook his head. Buckys familiar grip landed on his shoulder, and Steve found the strength to continue the song. "I'd meet someone, and I'd take what they give me, but they wouldn’t see me, Me, I'd say "sure."  
  
This was it. This was part Steve was dreading. Steve was small, his lungs were shit, but he was going to nail this. Bucky slowly moved in front of Steve, watching. “Suddenly you are, right here beside me, You don't give me orders, You don't condescend.” Steve tore the hat from his head, flinging it off stage. Lifting his hands in the air, Steve closed his eyes, using every ounce of air inside him. “Suddenly you are, here to provide me, Sweet understanding, 'til the very end.”  
  
Then Steve felt arms around his waist, lifting him in the air. They were spinning. Bucky singing as Steve let out a small laugh, grabbing Bucky's shoulders as they spun. “Tell me this feeling, Lasts til forever, Tell me the bad times, are clean, washed away.”  
  
Steve didn't miss a beat as his feet planted back on the stage. “Please understand that it's still new and curious," Steve sang. "For losers like I've been, It's so hard to say!” He can feel his lungs screaming at him, but Steve holds his voice high. He holds his voice long. The audience, who Steve had forgotten, stood to their feet, cheering.  
  
The chorus girls come on stage to finish the song. Bucky cups the side of Steve's face and Steve, who was never really a patient man, pulls Bucky closer to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Behind them, the girls sing, finishing the song that the two men have abandoned. The forgotten microphones taped to their skin picking up whispered words the audience isn't meant to hear.  
  
“I love you, Stevie.”  
“I love you, Buck.”  
  
And then they're kissing. Steve pulls Bucky face down to his level, crushing their lips together. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s not a kiss that Seymour and Audrey would share. But this isn't Seymour and Audrey. It's Seymour and Audie. And they don't remember they're in public anymore. Bucky’s hands are in Steve’s hair, completely messing up the hastily gelled style, making it stick up everywhere. Somehow, Steve had managed to move to Bucky’s neck, leaving small bites down the side. At some point, the music cuts off, and Erik comes on the stage his method streak never broken.  
  
“So!" Erik yells, "I see! My employees! Are fraternizing! With each other!”  
  
Bucky and Steve fling away from each other, Bucky falling to his butt on the stage. The audience laughs as Bucky picks himself back up. Steve begins to tuck his shirt back in, a smug look on his face.  
  
“Audie, could you give Seymour and I a minute?” Erik, still shouting, ask Steve. Steve shrugs, then exit stage left. From off stage, Steve can see the unnaturally jerky movements of the Audrey 2, now Audie 2, begin to kick in. On stage, Erik continues to questions Bucky about the blood spatters in the shop from Audie 2s feeding frenzy, asks him about what happened to the dentist.  
  
Offstage, Steve eyes the robot plant, trying to lean as close to it as he can without exposing himself to the audience. The plant is twitching spasmodically, moving its giant pod around in swooping motions. Steve quickly searches for someone backstage, finding everyone absent. When he turns back to the plant, the movements are more violent, not matching up to what Steve and Tony had preprogrammed. Then Steve sees the smoke start to billowing from the plant's pot. Steve narrows his eyes, walking towards the plant, no longer concerned with the illusion of the story. Sparks begin to fly from the control panel on the side as Steve approaches it. From behind him, Steve hears Erik stop talking. He hears Bucky tell him to be careful. Briefly, Steve thinks this is it. This is the moment they can’t come back from. Then sparks start shooting out of the side of the Audrey 2. Steve shields his face just as electricity explodes out the plant's control panel. Then the curtain collapses, crashing to the stage, separating the actors from the audience.  
  
There’s a cry that stills Steve’s movements. A panicked gasp that silences as the curtain thuds to the floor. In all his life. Steve felt the slowness of reality turn glacial as he watches the curtain push Bucky to the floor. Steve knows he must be moving, but his feet no longer seem to exist, and briefly, in the madness, Steve wonders how he's running too quickly across the stage with no feet. The curtain beats loudly in the stillness. Underneath it, Steves world completely stops when he sees Bucky lying unconscious. And then the lights cut out.  
  
In the darkness, Steve stumbles to Bucky’s side. He tries to pull Bucky’s body out from under the curtain, but he’s stuck on something. Then Erik is beside Steve, helping him drag Bucky from under the curtain. Steve falls to the floor, lightly smacking Bucky’s face. “Buck," Steve says, frantically trying to rouse him. "Come on. Wake up, Buck. We need to get off the stage.”  
  
Erik is crouched next to Steve, squinting at something behind them. “Steve,” Erik says as he taps Steves' shoulder. “Steve. There’s someone behind the plant. Steve, look!” Steve looks up, just in time, to see Brock arrive midstage.

Then Supertime starts loudly blaring from the speakers, rendering any cry for help unheard.  
  
“Came to make my big entrance," Brock yells, stalking towards them, menacing in the darkness. "Did ya miss me?” Bucky was moving his head slightly in Steves lap, mouthing something Steve couldn’t hear. Steve tapped Erik on the shoulder, motioning for him to stay with Bucky.

Then Stev rose to his feet and charged.  
  
Not tall enough to hit Brocks face, Steve swung at his neck instead, knocking him hard in the voice box. Brock staggers backward, clutching his throat just as Steve jumps on top of him, pushing him to the floor, getting one good hit in before Brock’s fist connects with his face.  
  
Steve rolls off him, scrambling to his feet as blood starts gushing from his nose. Then Brock charges him, knocking Steve firmly in the jaw and flat on the floor. Brock starts kicking Steve in the stomach once, then twice, before leaning down where Steve can hear him, so close Steve can feel Brocks lips on his ear. Sinthea appears behind Brock, and in the darkness, Steve can see her smirk as she walks past them, straight towards Erik. Steve lays there, pinned to the floor with a swollen cheek and busted nose, blood dripping down his face. Brock grabs Steve by his shirt, pulling him even closer to his face. At this angle, Steve can see Sinthea terrorizing Erik, slapping his face repeatedly. Bucky still unconscious on the floor, forgotten. Brock is close enough Steve can feel Brocks breath on his skin. His pupils are blown his breath foul.

“You made the wrong choice, big guy," Brock laughs, kneeing Steve once more. "You all made the wrong choice. I should have got that part. ANd now you all pay.”  
  
Brock drops Steve, causing him to crash to the floor. Frantically, Steve rolls away, ignoring the way his body sags. Steve spits in his face, causing Brock to let go of his shirt. He falls to the floor and rolls, just as a fist connects to the stage, the crack of bones shattering heard loudly over the music. Brock lets out a string of curses, giving Steve the moment he needs to check on the others. Steve see’s Sinthea messing with the plant, having abandoned Erik and Bucky. Erik’s face is bruised, but he’s standing. Barely though. “Erik!" Steve yells over his shoulder, turning back to face Brock. Every muscle screams at Steve as he moves, but nows now the time for that. "Get help," Steve says, squaring his body. "I got it from here.”  
  
Erik clutches the side of his face as he runs off stage. Eriks up, then backstage before Brock or Sinthea notice, or care to see, taking cover in the darkness. Brock is clutching his hand, yelling at Sinthea now. Steve grabs Bucky's arms and starts dragging while they're both still distracted. If he can get Bucky behind the flower shop set wall, then he'll be out of the way and safe. The stage lights flicker on, strobing the theater in streams of light and dark. In the moments of light, Sinthea see’s Steve dragging Bucky across the stage. She kicks the animatronic plant hard, causing it to violently tilt. Steve, despite himself, pulls Bucky faster, both of Bucky’s arms in his hands. Audrey 2 continues to wobbles, leaning closer to its edge.  
  
This is it. Steve scooted closer to the wall, dragging Bucky's limp body with him. This is how they die. Wishing he had his inhaler, Steve watches the giant plant crumple towards them. Steve had always assumed it would be something stupid that would kill him, but he never thought it would be a giant animatronic murder plant. And Steve had especially never thought he'd die with a gorgeous man knocked out in his arms. Curling his body over Bucky’s, Steve prepares for impact as the plant giant mouth opens and swallows them whole.

Steve yells at the weight on his back, feels himself crumple on top of Bucky. Beneath him, Bucky moans, his arm pinned under one of the plants animatronic pods. There's more smoke coming from the control panel of Audrey 2 surrounded surrounding them. Momentarily, Steve tries to shove the plant off Bucky’s arm with his feet, but it shoots pain through his entire body, rendering him motionless.  
  
From underneath the plant, Steve sees shoes rush on the stage in the strobes of light. Shoes that hadn’t been there before. Next to him, Bucky stirs, his eyes fluttering open. Steve can’t talk, can barely breathe now, the smoke smothering everything. Bucky goes to reach for him, making to move his arm, before realizing it’s pinned between the floor and the plant, with Steve pinning him to the floor. Bucky's eyes widen as he looks around them. Steve can feel Bucky’s body stiffen beneath him as he tries desperately to free his arm. Steve watches tears streak on Bucky’s face. In his haze, Steve tries to speak. To tell Bucky it’s going to be okay. But all Steve can do is open his mouth. No words are leaving, no air is entering. His vision is blurring as the smoke continues to thicken. Above him, Bucky stills as Steve struggles to keep his eyes open, his chest rapidly rising and falling.  
  
Steve can feel something reach by his leg, something taken from underneath him. There’s something close to his face, but Steve is, and his chest hurts. His chest hurts so bad. Far away, Steve hears someone talking to him. Whoever it is sounds panicked, Steve thinks. Briefly, Steve smells salt and smoke.  
  
“This would be easier if you helped me," someone says. "I only have one arm. Come on Stevie, work with me here.”  
  
Steve opens his mouth to respond. To tell the voice to stop being so loud, stop being so close to his face. To please stop getting him wet. But no words leave his mouth. Instead, there's a familiar pressure against his lips.  
  
“Come on, Stevie! You’re turning blue! Hey, can someone get this fucking plant off of us?”  
  
The pressures still by his lips. He parts them to tell it to move, then feels the rush of air entering his mouth. Then another rush of air. And another.  
  
He’s moving now. He’s being lifted. Someone’s stroking his hair. More voices are talking far away.  
  
“Where’s his pen?”  
  
“Dressing room. Second door to the left. Hurry! Come on Stevie, you saved me, let me save you. Yeah?”  
  
The voice is getting closer. It’s a nice voice. But Steve is so tired. So, so tired. And something is stinging his leg now. Steve tries to swat at the stinging, but instead, Steve feels something soft placed beneath him. It's nice.  
  
There are more voices. Soft voices. Loud sounds. Shouting cries. Why is everyone yelling?  
  
“Prop his head up. The police are here." Someone else says. Steve's pretty sure its someone he should know. "They’re taking over on the stage. Sam! Check his arm?”  
  
Steve feels something tighten around him. Something wet on his face. The voices are closer now. His chest is less tight.  
  
“Seriously, Bucky." Someone else, someone different now, speaks up. "It’s bruising pretty bad. That doesn’t look normal.”  
  
“Tony will fix it later." Another voice, again familiar. "Right now, he's all that matters.”  
  
On his other leg, Steve feels another sting. Everything hurts. Steve tries to open his eyes, but they feel heavier than usual. Slowly, things start to appear in front of Steve. There's one, two, no, three people leaning over him. Oh. They're upset.  
  
Steve stretches his arm to touch who he's pretty sure is Bucky’s face. But this Bucky looks devastated. No one that pretty should look upset.  
  
“Who you callin' pretty, punk?”  
  
You. You’re pretty, Steve thinks.  
  
“Yeah? Well, I think you’re the pretty one.” Steve feels pressure pressed against the side of his face.

“You can sleep now." Sam. That sounds like Sam. "We’re going to take you and Bucky to Stark Medical Research, okay?” Steve doesn’t care where they go as long as the pretty face goes with him.  
  
“Man." Riley. That one is Riley. "Does he always call you pretty?”  
  
“Hush, Sam! It’s sweet. Bucky, do you want me to go get your sister?”  
  
“Shit. Yeah. Fuck.”  
  
So pretty, Steve thinks.

Sam leans over him, wiggling his fingers over Steve's face. "Hey man. Guess what. I asked Riley to marry me. And then he asked me to marry him. Bucky's sister recorded it. And then you guys did a weird ass rendition of Little Shop, and everything was awesome, and then it wasn't. Do you remember that part?"  
  
Steve closes his eyes, a smile forming on his face. His friends are idiots. But they're his idiots.  
  
"I don't know who he thinks he's calling an idiot."  
  
"Right? That's really rude, Steve. But he called us his idiots, so that kind of makes up for it?"  
  
"Leave him alone. I don't think he realizes we can hear him."  
  
The pretty one is nice. 


	11. Act2: Opening Night III

  
“Good evening, everyone. And thank you for tuning in. Tonight we will be broadcasting live from Pepper Potts Play House after the most memorable opening night this city has seen in years! The local theater was performing Little Shop of Horrors, much to the excitement of the theater community. But they didn’t expect their playhouse to turn into the actual horrors they were pretending to be. What you are about to see is actual footage recorded from inside the playhouse just as smoke started to fill the auditorium. We must warn you, this may be disturbing content.” The television screen flashes to a shaky recording while the voice-over continues. “What you see here is one Peggy Carter, rushing the stage, tackling one of the alleged intruders to the ground, where the two women proceed to fight. In the background, you can hear the chaos as the auditorium is evacuated due to the smoke quickly filling it.” The clip ends. “We go live now to the scene where our reporter Christine Everhart is waiting with the director of the production. Christine, are you there?”

“Yes. I’m here, thank you. Let me introduce Miss Pepper Potts. Miss Potts, can you tell us what exactly happened tonight?”

“Well, Christine," Pepper says. "It all stems down to previous cast and crew members who couldn’t accept the fact that we moved on from them. Both had been banned from the playhouse, and they decided that an act of vengeance was their only means of retribution. They concocted an elaborate, multi-day scheme to bring down our play.”

The camera zooms in on a cop car, showing two passengers sitting in the back seat. Next to the vehicle stand Peggy and Angie. Peggy glaring into the cop cars window, a bruise forming just below her eye. Angie stands behind Peggy holding a box full of electronics. The camera pans in on the car while voice-over from Christine continues.

“Multi-day scheme? How so, Miss. Potts?”

“Well, it all started when we went on a cast retreat, and all of our electronics went missing. Phones, computers, GPS, even batteries. We sent some of our cast members to file a police report, and there was a rather obscene case of mistaken identity. It appears someone switched the plates on their car to make it appear stolen. Naturally, none of us had our phones or any way of communicating with each other, so we had no idea what had happened to them until a friend was able to find them.”

“So," Christine prods, "at this point, you must have been feeling pretty reluctant about the production?”

“Miss. Everheart." On screen, Pepper squares her shoulders. "In the spirit of show business, we continued on with our play, despite missing one of our leads and her understudy. We have a very devoted cast and crew, and we were able to arrange for alternatives for the night.”

“Yes, that was rather something." Christine laughs. "Tell me, Miss. Potts, were you trying to make a political statement by turning Audrey into Audie?”

The camera zooms in on Pepper, close enough that an observant viewer would be able to see red rims around her eyes. “I believe, Miss. Everheart, this interview is about what happened in my playhouse tonight. About the misfortune my cast and crew experienced. About the two cast members I have in medical facilities because they were attacked. I would be more than happy to talk about my experience and my crew's experience of being locked in the sound booth for almost two hours. I would encourage conversation on the bravery of Peggy Carter and Angie Martinelli. We can talk about how Erik Selvig assisted Steve Rogers is rescuing one of our cast from a fallen curtain. Do you know how heavy those curtains are? Or how Bucky Barnes put his own fears aside to help a co-star in a medical crisis." Christine tries to interrupt Pepper but Pepper throws her finger up, signaling for her to wait. "We can talk about Natasha Romanoff," Pepper continues, "defending her co-stars in their time of need backstage. We can talk about the amazing left hook Ms. Carter used to take down Sinthea Schmidt. Or Bruce Banner, and how he overcame his own issues to assist all of the guest in our lobby when it filled up with smoke. But if you are asking me what Pepper Potts Playhouse stance on the homosexual agenda is. Well, this is theater, and in theater, we accept everyone regardless of who they are or what they believe. What we don’t accept is bullies. Which I think this interview is heading in the direction of? So, Christine, I suggest you either stick to the prompts or leave! Because my cast is not a stepping stone in your career. You will not be winning a Cronkite off me and my-”

The image flicks back to the leading reporter in the studio, looking both entertained and caught off guard. “Sorry folks! Seems we are having some satellite trouble! Christine? Can you hear us? Seems we’ve lost her for now. We’ll continue to put forth our best efforts to retrieve the interview. For the meantime, let’s go to Chess Roberts, who has just arrived at Stark Medical Research where we have word that the two cast members from Pepper Potts Playhouse are being treated. Chess, what can you tell us?”

“Good evening. I’m reporting from just outside Stark Medical Research where we have word that James Barnes and Steve Rogers are being housed. We have no current updates on their conditions but have been able to obtain that they are both stable. Also, I feel the need to say that despite appearance, they were not, in fact, eaten by alien plants.”

“That’s good to hear, Chess!”

“Very good indeed. Wait. Hold on one second, here comes someone. Is that? Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark!” The camera zooms to the facility doors, where Tony Stark stands mid entrance. Mr. Stark, we’ve had word that you are housing the two injured actors from Pepper Potts Play House inside. Can you confirm or deny?”

“Come on Chess," Tony yawns, looking bored. "You know I can’t. And even if I could, where’s the challenge in that. Where’s your journalistic integrity? Wherever Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers are, I can assure you they are well taken care of. Additionally, I would like to state for the record, that Stark Medical Research is just that. A Research facility. And all research participants are granted total protection from, well. Basically, from people like you.”

“Would you like to issue a statement on your involvement with Pepper Potts Playhouse?”

“Sure.”

“Mr. Stark-wait. You would?”

“Yeah. Why not.” Tony Stark is seen reaching into his pocket, freeing a bag of almonds. He throws a couple into his mouth, offering some to the cameraman. The camera shakes as if saying no. “Your loss pal," Tony continues. "Got them shipped in today from Spain. Good, right? Anyway, you want a statement on my involvement with Pepper Potts Playhouse?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark." The reporter, Chess, prods. "If you don’t mind.”

“Naw. I don’t mind. My involvement is this.” Tony flips his phone around, showing a picture of himself and Pepper on the home screen. In the picture Tony has his arms wrapped around Pepper, with her fondly pushing his beard off her face. They appear to be somewhere tropic. “We’re uh, we’re business partners. See? And also, partner partners. So, I suggest you tell WHIH to call off their dogs. Or Stark Industries will be coming after them.” Tony turns, entering the facility once more. The doors slide shut behind.

“Well, there you have it, folks! You heard it first here on WHIH. I’m Chess Roberts. Bidding you all a goodnight.”

* * *

 

 

From his bed, Steve can hear voices. They sound far away, but if he strains, Steve can just make out what they're saying.

“So, Bucky’s arms are going to be okay.”

“Good.”

“I thought I recognized you in the theater. I just didn’t want to say anything.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I also appreciate that.” Someone sighs. Sounds like Sam. The other voice Steve doesn’t know.

“I work for SHIELD information. Bucky thinks I'm a historian though. I just want you to know I am going to do whatever is in my power to ensure you live a normal civilian life. Now that I know you, you’re kind of real now. I see how much you care for Steve. And Bucky seems to think very highly of you. And it’s very evident how much those two care for each other." The voice, someone female, continues. "And anyone who my brother cares for, I care for as well. Which, by extension, makes you part of our family. I know SHIELD has been trying to re-recruit you. What can I do to help that not happen?” Whoever that is, Steve thinks, he likes her.

“I know this may seem stupid.” That’s Sam again. Steves positive now. “But I just want to live my life. I want them to leave me alone. I’ve still got a lot to give. I just don’t want to give it to them anymore.” The room goes quiet, Steve turns in his bed, and they go quiet for a what feels like a long time before Sam starts speaking again. “Anyway," Sam says. " If you could just get SHIELD to layoff? So we can live?”

Steve’s never heard Sam mention SHIELD before. Steve’s not sure what that is. Maybe something from Sams Army days? He'll have to remember to ask him later. But right now this particular spot on this bed is really warm, he thinks, nuzzling deeper into it. Steve stills, sighing into the softness, content. Then the voices start again.

Later, Steve awakes to find two people sitting on the sofa in his room. Only this isn’t his room. This room is bright white. And sterile. Which must mean Steve is in the hospital again. But this isn’t the medical center Steve is used to. Blurry images start coming into focus and Steve realizes that one of the people is Sam sitting on the sofa. Beside Sam sits a woman Steve doesn’t know but something about her is somehow familiar. Something about her chin.

“Hey," She jumps from her seat, startling Steve in his bed fully awake. "Bucky! He’s awake!”

“Hey! No. I’m not done yet! Okay, then. Don’t come back asking for seconds, Barnes!" Someone starts running in the hallway, the sound of feet loudly hitting the floor. Tony’s yells after them, shouting. “Give someone a million dollar arm, and this is how they treat you!”

Bucky slides through the door, his arm wrapped in bandages. And then Bucky’s crawling in the bed next to Steve. Steve scoots over, making room for both of them. Bucky wraps his unbandaged arm around Steve, the two spooning in the hospital bed now. “You got to stop scaring me like that, Stevie,” Bucky says, nuzzling from behind into Steve's hair.

In the hallway, people are still talking. It sounds like Riley and Tony.

“So, you’re saying that everything is him except the actual bone?”

“Yes.”

“And as long as the ends are touching properly, it transmits what he's supposed to feel to his brain. And those are his actual feelings, not something simulated?”

“Correct.”

“And the bright green bruise was from a crack in the shelling?”

"I think they forgot we're here," Bucky says, speaking next to Steve's ear so he can hear him. “You okay?”

Steve rolls over. Or he tries to roll over. But it takes Steve longer than he would like and it hurts more than he's willing to admit, so Steve ends up laying flat on his back as a compromise. But the view isn't so bad. Steve reaches up, smoothing the lines formed between Bucky's brows. “I’m fine," Steve says. "Just a little asthma. Ain't nothing I can't handle. Are you okay?”

Bucky lifts his arm, showing Steve the bandages. “Got a small crack in it when Audrey 2 landed on us. Made some of the fluid leaks out but it’s fine. Not a big deal. Easy fix. Or," Bucky corrects, "Tony said it was an easy fix. All they had to do was a small cut and seal the leak. No heavy lifting for the next couple weeks and I'll be good as new.”

“Are they always this rude? And gross?”

Riley and Tony finally enter the room, still talking with each other. Riley going to sit next to Sam. Steve notices the smile Riley gives the still unidentified woman. “Don’t worry, Becks," Sam says. "They forget we’re in the room a lot too.”

Bucky groans, closing his eyes, flopping his head back on the pillow. “Sorry, Becca. Steve, my sister, Rebecca.” Bucky motions towards her with his shoulder. “Becca, this is Steve.”

She smiles at him. It’s a friendly smile. A familiar one. “Firstly, I’m very excited to meet you. Secondly,” Becca rises from her seat, crossing over to the bed, wrapping her plump arms around Steve’s bony shoulders. It’s a bit of an awkward hug as Bucky refuses to remove his arm from around Steve as well. They end up in some sort of three-person group hug. Rebecca leans in, where only Steve can hear. “Thank you for saving Bucks life.”

It’s a lot to take in. A lot of people, a lot of affection. “Well," Steve clears his throat, responding to her. "I guess we’re even.” They release each other, Bucky smiling at them from the other side of the bed. Sam and Riley observing from the other side of the room. She leans in, softly patting his cheek. Steve can feel his skin flush.

  
“Okay,” says Riley, “I’m interrupting here. Tony wants to keep Bucky overnight to make sure his arm doesn’t start leaking again.” Bucky bolts upright in the bed, protest on the edge of his lips. Riley throws his hands in the air, stopping him before he begins, his doctor persona taking over. “I told Tony you two wouldn’t like that idea, so Bucky, if it’s okay with you, can I get a copy of your medical chart? We can all go back to our place and Sam and I can watch you both. Then Tony and Pepper can go do their thing. And we can all get some much need rest.”

Bucky nods, unaware of the gravity of what he agrees to. Steve leans over him, closest to Riley he can get from the bed. “You taking on a new house case, doc?” Riley, despite himself, blushes.

“Figured I better. He’s part of our crew and all. Ya know how it is.” Steve smiles at him. Bucky looks embarrassed.

"And I," Sam says, finally standing from the sofa. "Am going to take Becca to the airport. Get to know her a little better. I'll meet you guys at home."

“Sorry, Buck." Becca grimaces, looking guilty. "I was only able to get away for the night. I’m sure I can arrange something if you need me to stay? But I think you’re in good hands here.” Rebecca links her arm through Sams.

The group says their goodbyes, Steve and Bucky both assuring Becca that they'll be fine and promising not to get into any more trouble before she and Sam stroll out the room appearing thick as thieves.

  
It’s late when all four men are finally in the townhouse. Bucky, Steve, and Riley had had to wait for Tony to clear the grounds before they could leave, and then Riley drove around for thirty minutes before pulling into the driveway. Just in case.

In his bedroom, Steve collapses on his bed, feeling lightheaded from all the movement. Steve kicks his pants off just as Bucky shuts the door. Bucky unzips his hoodie, slipping it off, shirtless underneath. It was more comfortable that way, with his arm still bandaged. Tony had given them their stolen phones before they left the clinic, as well as all their other stuff. From his dresser, Steve plugged in both of the phones, both with dead batteries from being missing for almost two days.

“Hey, Stevie?” Bucky asks, propped against the doorway.

“Sup, Buck?”

Bucky doesn't say anything for a long while, and Steve looks up from trying to charge all their electronics. The two men stare at each other from across the room, no words being needed. Finally, Bucky nods, then crosses the room and sits on the bed next to Steve.

Steve pulls the blankets back and makes room for Bucky in what has effortlessly become their routine. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, Bucky grabs Steves hand, intertwining their fingers. And before either think to fight it, the two men drift off to sleep, covered only with a thin quilt and each other.

 


	12. Kiss of Theater

  Little Shop of Success!!

A FITZSIMMONS REVIEW  
  
This is our first official review for Pepper Potts Playhouse and boy do we have a lot to say! After a worrisome start, the production of Little Shop of Horrors is a complete and utter success! If you have time, you HAVE to see this show. Initially intended for a three-week run, Pepper Potts Playhouse has extended its production of Little Shop of Horrors for another four weeks. Starring Angie Martinelli and James Barnes, with Bruce Banner as Audrey 2, the play was able to call on personal friendships to contribute to its overall feel of closeness.  
  
One thing we love about this production is that it has had every opportunity to fall apart and somehow it ends up being one of the best plays of the season. The sets are gorgeous. The costumes are immaculate. Even the spotlights shine a little brighter.

As some of you may recall, there was a bit of a fiasco on the original opening night. Some disgruntled cast members decided to sabotage the production, making a huge mess of everything. Not only was the one of a kind Stark animatronic Audrey 2 destroyed, but it flooded the entire playhouse with smoke resulting in evacuation and the injury of two cast members. Unbeknownst to the casual viewers, the sabotage went much deeper than crashing the play. The –let’s call them the bad guys – the bad guys concocted an elaborate hoax not only to remove Angie Martinelli from production but her understudy as well. Both actresses ended up missing opening night due to a case of mistaken identity caused by switched plates on a car! But wait! It gets better! The entire reason they were detained? They had volunteered to go file a police report after all their electronics were stolen from the cast retreat! These bad guys were thorough! Here’s a rundown of all the mayhem they caused!

1\. Steal all electronics from cast retreat leaving them without technology.  
2\. Get the female lead and her understudy away from the show.  
3\. Crash show mid-production by causing the curtain to collapse on the male lead.  
4\. Attack cast behind the fallen curtain.  
  
Wooza! We told you it was sabotage! But…and here is the but, folks. This is Pepper Potts we are talking about. THE Pepper Potts. Did you think a couple of has been throwing a hissy fit would make her crumble? If you did, well, you’re wrong. What are you even doing reading this? Oh, ye of little faith! Not only did Pepper fix the doomed opening night, but she also wholly turned the play around into the success it is today. So, opening night was doomed. But no one expected what happened next!  
  
Fix #1: Suddenly, Audie!  
  
On preview night, which we were in attendance for before it was so abruptly halted, the original solution was simple. Seymour had no Audrey, but due to luck, the new set designer recently hired knew all of Audrey’s lines. With some quick thinking and a little line shifting, Audrey became Audie and the play became an instant success in the theater community. Our only complaint? We didn’t get to see the conclusion for Seymour and Audie because those pesky bad guys jumped in. Let’s talk about this Audie! Portrayed by Steven Rogers, recently hired set designer and all around cutie patootie. The chemistry between Rogers and Barnes (representing Seymour) was palpable throughout the entire theater. Not only was the dialogue electric, but this newcomer can seriously sing. Most of the production he was on stage in a hybrid of modern and dapper wear. Skinny pants with sweaters. Newsboy hats with animal print. They went out of their way to make Audie appear as close to Audrey’s usual attire as they could. And man oh man, did this guy really pull it off. So, Steven Rogers, never acted a day in his life, and somehow he was able to sing every song, recite every line, and even get a few hits in during the physical attack from these bad guys. We were able to get a few words from him. And this guy is seriously sweet, okay? Just…you’ll see what we mean:  
  
FS: So, Steven, tell us a little about yourself. And then tell us everything!  
  
SR: *laughs* Well, there’s not much to tell. I’m new here, but I already feel so at home. And Bu- ..James had asked me to run lines with him one day and we just never stopped. That’s how I knew all the lines.  
  
FS: You did! We were very impressed. Have you any previous acting experience?  
  
SR: None! I was just supposed to make sure the sets got where they needed to be. But I quickly developed friendships with Bu-... James and Angie and I refused to let everyone’s hard work go to waste. So, as much as I was terrified, I volunteered to step in until Angie got back.  
  
FS: We loved it! We wish we could have seen the entire thing with you in it! The emotional range in your voice when you performed was captivating. And the ad libs you and James did to Suddenly, Seymour brought tears to my eyes.  
  
SR: Ha. Thank you.  
  
FS: Actual tears! That’s a pretty significant accomplishment.  
  
SR: [blushes] Well, thank you. That’s a really nice thing to say.  
  
FS: We have to ask, our readers and listeners would riot if we didn’t. You are a man.  
  
SR: [looks at self ] Last I checked. Yeah.  
  
FS: James is also a man.

SR: [nods]  
  
FS: Was it awkward for you?  
  
SR: Oh! Not at all. Um. I’m bisexual. And James has been out for a long time. So, no? Is that what you were asking?  
  
FS: We didn’t want to be rude. It’s just, you two looked terribly comfortable.  
  
SR: [smiles]  
  
FS: Okay, okay. Next question?  
  
SR: Yes, please.  
  
FS: We noticed you wear hearing aids.  
  
SR: Astute observation.  
  
FS: At the time, did you realize the impact that would have on the theater community?  
  
SR: Impact?  
  
FS: Let’s just say the number of deaf children enrolling in The Kiss of Theater acting classes has grown.  
  
SR: Really? That’s so cool. No, I didn’t know about that.  
  
FS: They would love to meet you.  
  
SR: I would love to meet them! You know our sound guy, Clint Barton, he would really like to be in on this as well.  
  
FS: Well, let’s work something out then!  
  
SR: Okay! Wow. Cool. Okay.  
  
FS: One last questions and then we’ll let you go. You’re an artist?  
  
SR: Yep. I am an artist.  
  
FS: But you designed the sets. Which were beautiful. And you also did all the promotional stuff, like the posters and playbills. Which were also lovely.  
  
SR: Yeah. I did. Thank you. I do a little bit of everything.  
  
FS: Steven, you’re lovely. Any chance of you getting back on stage?  
  
SR: Oh no. Not if it can be avoided.  
  
FS: Okay, okay! Thank you so much for talking with us today!  
  
SR: Thank you! Look forward to reading it.  
  
Adorable! Right? sigh  
  
FIX #2: Time off and Regroup  
  
So, the bad guys attacked and Steven and James ended up underneath a very heavy and very broken Audrey 2. So, what does Pepper do? She completely keeps her cool. She reschedules the entire run. They took a week off, updated everyone’s tickets. And opened with thunderous applause! The most significant change was adapting Bruce Banner into a physical Audrey 2 instead of using the animatronics. But that guy can really pull off a giant green suit so we’re not complaining! This was perhaps the best performance Angie Martinelli has ever given. And who can blame her? Bad guys try to take her down, and now they are talking possible awards heading her way! Folks. Folks. You have not lived until you’ve heard Angie sing in this play. It’s captivating. It’s haunting. It’s life-changing. And guess what? We spoke with her too!

FS: First. So glad you’re okay.

AM: *waves hand* We were never in real trouble. We had it under control. Well. Mostly.

FS: So, we have to ask, did you see any of Stevens performance?

AM: I did! He was great! Wasn’t he? He’d been holding out on us.

FS: We asked him if he might get back on stage and he gave us a hard no.

AM: Well. Anythings possible I guess.

FS: So, people are talking awards for your performance. Did you know that?

AM: Shut up! I didn’t. I’ve been busy. Ya know. Acting.

FS: I hope you win them all!

AM: Me too!

FS: So, what’s next? Any big plans?

AM: I’ve got a few things going for me. I don’t want to say anything too soon. Just in case. But keep an eye out. For sure.

FS: Can you tell us anything behind the scenes about Little Shop?

AM: Well. We’re trying to convince Steve to do an encore performance. But every time we bring it up he puffs on his inhaler and says he has a meeting.

FS: A meeting?

AM: [laughs] One time I asked him who all these meetings were with, and he said Obama. Then he ran away. I never laughed so hard in my life.

FS: Ha! Well, as you said. Anything is possible.

AM: Yes. Well, some things might not be. [laughs]

FS: We loved your performance. I think it might be the best we’ve ever seen from you.

AM: Oh, stop it! Ya mean it? Well, thank you. That's so nice. I had a lot of motivation to knock it out of the park.

FS: You did!

AM: And James has been so great. Honestly, any chance I get to work with him is always a fun show.

FS: Steven spoke very highly of him as well.

AM: He would.

FS: One more question?

AM: Sure!

FS: We heard a rumor.

Am: Well, share it with me!

FS: You are going to be in the next one?

AM: I did an audition. I needed a smaller part this time. But I think everyone is going to like the cast. We got a few new comers, and I’m just looking forward to all the dancing. Those who have been cast have been notified, but Pep’s will be posting the official list at the end of Little Shop.

FS: Angie, it’s always so fun talking with you. Can’t wait to see what you’re up to next.

AM: Thank you.  
  
What’s next?  
  
With the close of Little Shop just around the corner, Pepper Potts Playhouse has already started looking to the future. A casting notice has gone up on their website announcing their next production of.....*drumroll*.....American Idiot! We can't wait to see what Miss. Potts and her crew come up with next in regards to this modern rock opera! We know, at the very least, it will be a wild and entertaining ride. You can keep updated with the production of American Idiot from Pepper Potts on our website. We can expect casting announcements soon.

So, overall, we can’t say enough good things about Little Shop of Horrors. Ten out of ten would recommend. Everyone see it if you can. It had a rough start, but it came back with a fury! So, overall, we can’t say enough good things about Little Shop of Horrors. Ten out of ten would recommend. Everyone see it if you can. It had a rough start, but it came back with a fury! Be sure to tune in next week for the Kiss of Theater podcast and leave your comments below! And as always, signing off with a kiss!


	13. Curtain Call

  
Steve waits for it, already kneeling beside the safety mat, waiting for the trap door to open. It’s subtle, it always is, but the stage light floods underneath the stage, prepping for the next scene.  
  
On stage, Bucky grabs his prop ax, then dives at Bruce, propelling himself face first into the trap door, landing with a soft thud on the mat under the stage. Steve leans over, his hand already extended to pull Bucky up, leaning in for a quick kiss.  
  
“Curtain call in five minutes, Mr. Barnes.” Steve smiles, between kisses.  
“Thank you, Mr. Rogers," Bucky replies, kissing him back. "Shall we make our way there to prepare?”  
“Yes. I think so.”  
“Jolly good then. Let’s go.”  
“You are such a nerd.”  
“Yeah, but you love it.”  
“Yeah." Steve answers, "I do.”  
  
Above them, the chorus sings the closing song bringing the play to its final close. This has, without doubt, been the craziest six months of Steve’s life. He's loved every minute of it. Steves grip on Bucky’s hand tightens, thinking about the future. Their future.  
  
They make it in line just as the curtain starts to lower, catching a quick glimpse of the auditorium standing to their feet. The entrance music begins to play as background actors step in front of the curtain, applauses ringing through the house. They are followed quickly by Helen, Darcy, and Natasha. More applause rings through. Bruce and Erik exit next, both staying in character for the ovations. The audience loves it when Bruce yells Feed Me, erupting in the second round of applause. Jack runs onto the stage, clearly more confident in himself these days. Bucky grabs Angie's hand as they walk out together, parting the curtains, stepping through, disappearing from Steve’s sight. The house becomes thunderous, Steve flinching slightly at the volume. The applause continues for a long moment, Steve knowing that the actors are pointing towards the sound booth where Tony and Clint are probably peeking out. Pepper walks up beside him, giving his shoulder a small squeeze.  
  
“Well, let’s get this over with. And then, we drink.” She covers her mouth, startled by her own words. “Oh. I simply meant-”  
  
"Nope. You don't do that. After this, we drink." Steve shakes his head, motioning for her to stop as she starts to protest. “If anyone deserves a drink, it’s you, Pepper.” Her answering smile is sweet and soft.

"Oh, Steve. You're too much. Play me in a game of pong tonight? Yeah?"

"Absolutely."

From the other side of the curtain, her cue rings. Steve laughs as she jogs to the stage. Shaking his head, he starts to make his way towards the stairs, ready to go mingle with the audience. It’s tradition, at least at Pepper Potts Playhouse, for the cast to give the audience a chance to approach them on closing night. Ask them what their motivations were or what they will be doing next. But Steve doesn’t expect to hear the microphone click on over the speakers now. He especially doesn’t expect to hear Angie's voice flooding the building. He freezes. This wasn’t on the agenda. Whats going on?  
  
“As some of ya may know," Angie starts, "some nasty people tried to make things hard for us two months ago. But we didn’t let them!” More applause rings through. “I know it’s a bit taboo to give speeches at curtain call, but whatever. I want to tell you guys a little bit about Steve. Rogers” Steves' hand tightens around the railing, head slowly turning towards the stage. “Now Steve was new here. We found him after our last set designer didn’t work out. He’s been with us almost nine months now. And how we ever got this far without him is beyond me! Steve! Steve! I know you’re hiding back there!" Angie laughs. "Don’t make me send someone back to come find you!”  
  
“I’ll go!” The audience laughs at Bucky's voice. He must have known. He is better at not telling someone something when told not to. Angie laughs with them before her voice is heard again.  
  
“Let’s see if we can lure him out here ourselves. Audience? I know you guys heard about Audi? Yeah? Come on, let’s give 'em some applause. Maybe he’ll show up.”  
  
Slowly, the audience does as they’re told. Then the volume starts to rise. Whistles start echoing off the walls. If Steve doesn’t go out there, Bucky’s going to come get him and make him. Okay, Steve. You can do this. Steve runs his fingers through his hair then begins to jog the stairs, slowly walking to the center stage. In front of him, the curtain sways softly, separating him from the other side. Steve takes this moment, knowing the applause is strictly for him. Even if Angie did egg it on. Then, Steve opens the curtain, stepping out onto the stage.  
  
Momentarily, Steve's blinded by the spotlight, then it slips from his face to expand across the entire stage, highlighting every single person is standing. Bucky reaches for him, pulling Steve to the middle of the lineup, never letting go of his hand.  
  
“There he is!” Angie claps, along with everyone else. Bucky gives his shoulder a nudge, encouraging him with his eyes. “Everyone! We want to acknowledge the person who single-handedly designed all these amazing sets.” Angie passes the microphone to Bucky. Steve gives him a look. He’s going to be in trouble later. Steve hasn't decided if it's going to be good trouble or bad trouble yet.

“ Ladies and gentlemen," Bucky adds, winking at Steve, "he also single-handedly designed all those beautiful posters outside. Every single playbill you are holding!”  
  
Bruce grabs the mic next, moving to stand beside them. Steve can feel his breathing picking up. Sweet Jesus, please don't let me have an asthma attack right now. The crowd is still clapping. It’s overwhelming.  
“I know how amazing I look in this suit,” Bruce begins, “but our original Audrey 2 was animatronic. Along with Tony Stark, Steve helped with that as well! And folks, it was beautiful.”  
  
Pepper is handed the microphone, she brushes a stray piece of hair behind her ears, smiling at the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, as the director of this production, I would like to introduce you to the person who single-handedly stepped up to keep us running when everything was fighting against us. Who risked his life to save his co-star. Everyone,” Pepper turns, her eyes finding Steve’s, placing her hand over her heart. “This is our Audie!”  
  
The cast starts crowding around him, enveloping Steve in a semicircle. Steve notices Peggy on the stage with them. From the sound booth, the door opens, Clint and Tony standing on the balcony. Peter and Kate following behind them. All four of them clapping as well. Bucky’s arm tightens around Steves' shoulder as a projection comes down from the sound booth, video playing out on the curtain. He can’t help it. Steve covers his mouth, tears starting to well in his eyes. On the curtain, images of his play loop, full scenes of Steve as Audie from opening night.  
  
They show him with the chorus, leaning across the shop counter, a lazy smile hanging on his face. Clip after clip plays, various highlights from opening night. The crowd loves it. Steve watches in awe, tears freely flowing down his face. Finally, clips of Bucky and Steve begin flicking across. Image after image of interactions. Some appearing comical. Some appearing surprised. Most appearing oddly intimate. Steve feels Bucky press a small kiss to the side of his face. The audience cheers even louder. Steve’s speechless. Overwhelmed. To think that less than a year ago Steve was content staying in his house, barely interacting with the world. Steve was mostly alone and existing. But now, now he’s living. And it’s all started with him glaring at Sam over a pot of soup.  
  
Someone shoves a frame in his hands. Inside it lays a certificate with the words FIRST OFFICIAL PEPPER POTTS STAGE AVENGER AWARD 2015.

Oh. Oh dear. Steve stares at it for a moment before clinging it to his chest, nodding his gratitude. Somehow, Steve's mouths thank you to Pepper. She merely nods, applauding, as Steve is handed the microphone. The house goes silent as Steve taps on the mic, trying to get everyone’s attention, wiping tears from his face.  
  
“I, um.”  
  
In the silence, someone from the audience yells out. “You can do it, Steve! Woo!” His eyes crinkle, as he searches. “Sam?” Steve feels his mouth drop, surprise flooding through him. “Did you know about this and not tell me?” It’s quiet for a moment, Steve searching the rows, still not seeing his friend. Bucky chuckles behind him. Then a more excited voice yells out. “He’s not going to answer, but the answer is yes!”  
  
The entire house laughs.  
  
“Honestly," Steve says, "I had no idea they were going to do this. Um.” Steve waves the certificate in the air. “I really don’t like bullies. I think anyone else would have done the same thing had they been able to.” Steve turns back to the curtain, the loop of images replaying. “Thank you.” Steve chokes out. “Thank you, everyone. Thank you all so much.”  
  
They stand there for what feels like an eternity, as patron after patron approaches them. Retelling stories of how they heard of the show, how much they enjoyed it, how it inspired them. Finally, the crowd begins to thin, the production finally over. Bucky’s arm still wrapped around Steve’s shoulder, Steve clutching the framed certificate close to his heart.  
  
Sam and Riley rush the stage, both jumping on Steve, with Sam and Riley both trying to give him noogies at once. Steve laughs, pushing them off of him, immediately looking for Bucky who somehow avoided the noogies.

Buckys watching the three of them interact, his face full, his smile bright. Steve barely manages to choke out his question as he reaches for his hand.  
“Wrap party now?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, “party now.” Bucky leans over Sam and Riley, who are once again trying to tackle Steve unsuccessfully, and brushes his lips against Steve's. Both can feel the lingering promise behind it. Around them, people start turning the stage into a party, setting up ping pong tables and handing out drinks. Someone turns on music, and the dancing begins instantly.  
  
“Eh!” Sam laughs, shaking his finger, “none of that until there are at least six shots of vodka inside this body!”  
  
Steve deepens the kiss. Bucky lets him. Their friends groan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading (rereading?) and thanks for putting up with me reposting this. I'm eternally sorry I ever had to delete in the first place.
> 
> I also have the engagement outtake from Sam/Riley that was originally in this story that I've cut and will probably post as a one shot.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a previously posted fic that I had to delete for multiple personal reasons that I am now safe enough to repost. Please don't attack me for theft. I am literally just reposting my old fic with small minor edits. Let me know what you think. I'm rather attached to this story, hence the reposting of it.


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